


Just Ask And I Will Do

by veritas_st



Series: Just Ask [1]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 23:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritas_st/pseuds/veritas_st
Summary: Mike is Harvey's bitch.  And he's strangely ok with that.





	1. Chapter 1

He thinks he might be well and truly screwed. Or smoked too much pot way back when, before Harvey had swooped in like a White Knight and put a stop to all that. The thing is, Mike is, when you get down to it, all things considered…

…in love with one Harvey Specter. 

Ok so maybe not love, maybe obsession, infatuation, completely and utterly bowled over by...

Oh fuck it, who is he kidding. It’s totally love. 

And its not normal either, and not just because Harvey is a guy. And his boss. And an arrogant asshole. He also knows exactly what buttons to push and how to push them to turn Mike into a gibbering wreck using nothing more than a finger under his chin and a few well chosen words. 

Mike is Harvey’s bitch and Harvey is well aware of it. 

He can’t remember when he became the sort of person who craves discipline, who shudders at the thought of the hickey under his collar that Harvey gave him when he’s done something particularly good, or the punishing bruises around his hips when he’s fucked up, again. One might blame his lack of father figure or some pseudo psychoanalytical bullshit like that. 

But really what it comes down to is that Harvey gets what Harvey wants. 

Mike remembers clearly the first time he felt anything other than vague hero worship for the guy, overhearing him say “good boy” in that dark tone of his that he only uses now in private, or when he’s teaching Mike a lesson in public and wants to torment him to the point of insanity (which he does frequently because he’s an evil bastard). Anyway, Mike’s stomach had cramped at that and after, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head, or the notion that maybe, if he worked hard enough, Harvey would say it again. 

Things really escalate from there. 

He’s hungover when it happens again, feeling like shit as Harvey’s office spins in his vision and the smell of coffee wafting from the two Styrofoam mugs in front of him makes him feel a little sick. For once though, he’s in before Harvey and that has to count for something right? 

“Morning Puppy,” Harvey sounds entirely too chipper for this early in the morning and Mike resists the urge to slam his pounding, spinning head against the seemingly smudge proof glass desk that sits in the middle of Harvey’s office (how is it always so clean?), “how’s that pretty head of yours?” He asks, shouting directly into Mike’s ear. Well, talking loudly enough so as not to ruffle his immaculate image, directly into Mike’s ear. Mike groans in response and Harvey’s fingers slide across the back of his neck. Mike shivers and he’s more than happy to blame that one on the alcohol leaving his system, thank you very much.

“Lesson number 5,256 Mikey, _never_ get drunk with clients.” 

“You told me to,” Mike protests weakly because honestly he doesn’t think his head can take anything other than weakly right now. Harvey smirks and sits in the chair that probably cost more than Mike’s monthly rent, blows gently on the coffee and takes a sip, smiling in pure bliss as the caffeine works its way into his veins. The smile is one that Mike rarely sees, a real smile, even though it’s small. The ones he usually throws at Mike are tinged with a smirk. 

“No, I told you to entertain them,” he says after he swallows and Mike must still be drunk because he watched the movement of Harvey’s throat with a fascination that only a drunk man trying to read a label on a bottle of beer can have. “Do I need to teach you a lesson in listening to _every_ word I say?” Harvey raises an eyebrow questioningly and Mike swallows the lump that has inexplicably formed in his throat. 

“But…you…” He starts and Harvey leans forward, resting his chin between his thumb and index finger. 

“Do I need to teach you a lesson, Michael?” And there it is, that dark tone again but this time it’s no where near pleased and Mike swallows again and tugs at his collar which suddenly seems far too tight. He resists the urge to shudder and scream _God yes please._

Yup, still drunk. 

“No,” he says instead and he almost catches a glimpse of disappointment in Harvey’s face before the immaculate mask is back in places and he raises an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair and crossing a leg over his knee. 

“Good boy.”

Mike doesn’t miss the dangerous glint in Harvey’s eyes, or the way his own stomach cramps up again. What the fuck is wrong with him? It should be patronising, and a little bit terrifying but its making Mike’s skin tingle and he can still feel Harvey’s fingers on his neck. 

He’s so screwed. 

“Right, hand me that case file, the clients that I entertained last night whilst you were getting fucked…although not in the right way…want a draft agreement by this afternoon so…” 

The rest of whatever Harvey says drifts over his head and Mike tries to swallow down the urge to bolt from the office, either that, or vomit. 

He hasn’t decided yet.

.....

“Harvey needs you,” Mike looks up from his desk to see Rachel smiling down at him. 

“Does he really?” He asks, “Or is this another plot to whisk me out of the office for a clandestine meeting over weird food?” Rachel crosses her arms, sticks out her hip and rolls her eyes, but to her credit she laughs. 

“Do we need to talk about me not dating from the office again? No, Harvey really needs you,” she says, turning on her heel, her long hair spinning out behind her. Mike sits for a second, wondering why Harvey didn’t come and find him himself, throw some spiteful and sarcastic comment at him before turning on his heel and expecting Mike to follow like the little lost puppy that he is. “Now Mike,” Rachel says over her shoulder and Mike jumps, pulls the earbud from his ear and grabs the pile of files sitting on his desk. 

Harvey’s on the phone when he gets to his office, pacing the immaculate carpet (honestly do the cleaners only ever vacuum Harvey’s office?), he nods his head in the direction on the chair in front of his desk and Mike throws himself down. He’s fucking tired, can’t remember the last time he slept a decent amount in one go and he zones out listening to Harvey’s arguing beautifully down the phone. 

“Working too hard Mike?” Harvey asks, his fingers resting against Mike’s neck. Mike jumps back to attention and Harvey’s fingers stay against his skin as he leans over Mike’s shoulder to look at the files. 

“Um…no,” Yeah, way to go Mike, he thinks, that was well answered. Harvey chuckles darkly, curls his fingers against Mike’s neck and Mike arches slightly into the touch. He can’t help that his neck is an erogenous zone for him, it’s not his fault that Harvey’s breath, which smells like coffee by the way, expensive coffee, is hot against his cheek, or that Harvey’s fingers are surprisingly soft, even though there is a hint of power in them as they flex against Mike’s skin. If Harvey notices Mike arching, he doesn’t say anything, just nods to get Mike to open the files. 

Harvey takes one look at the papers and nods again, flexing his fingers once more.

“Good, well done,” he says, darkly in Mike’s ear and lets go, straightens up and tugs at his suit as he walks around to sit back into his chair. 

Mike feels a flush creep across his cheeks and looks up at Harvey, who’s watching him with an amused yet calculating look. 

“Feel free to go back to work Mike, or you could just continue to sit here doing a outstanding impression of a goldfish, either way,” Harvey smirks, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips and Mike watches, licks at his own lips at the same time and sees Harvey’s eyes go dark. 

Mike clears his throat and stands. 

“Right...back to work...ok,” he stammers and runs from the office.

.....

He’s kind of worried, to be honest, that he’s going to slip up one day and fall to his knees and beg Harvey to touch him. He honestly doesn’t know where these thoughts are coming from but they’re there now, stuck inside his head and fuck it, he can’t get them out no matter what. 

No amount of beating off in the shower is helping either. Not that he gets more than 2 minutes in the shower what with his love of sleeping and hatred of actually getting out of bed. 

But still, Harvey looks good in suits, _really_ good. And slick and Mike wants to be able to make that immaculate wall come down.

Harvey is almost at the dishevelled stage when Mike walks into his office at 10 pm on Friday night. Harvey has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a lock of hair has fallen out from his rock solid coif and is hanging over his forehead. There are wrinkles on his shirt that he would probably rather die than ever admit to having. 

He doesn’t even look up at the cursory knock Mike gives. 

“Go home Mike,” he says sharply, pinching at the bridge of his nose and staring down at the papers strewn over the floor and the coffee table. Mike shucks off his jacket and folds it over the chair, earning a pleased look from Harvey that all the hours drumming in the importance of looking after your ridiculously expensive suits has paid off. 

“What do you need?” he asks, sitting on the floor in front of a pile of paper. Harvey looks relieved for a second, there are rings under his eyes that Mike doesn’t remember seeing this morning. 

“Food,” Harvey says, with a small smile. 

Three hours later they’re still there, cold pizza (because Harvey let Mike choose and no that didn’t make Mike blush like a 12 year old girl thank you very much), cold coffee (for Harvey) and room temperature Red Bull (for Mike) litter pretty much every surface that isn’t covered with papers. Harvey’s back at his desk and Mike is sitting on the chair in front of it when he punches one fist into the air. 

“Yes...I am the King of Loopholes,” he announces and Harvey is by his side in an instant as Mike explains what he’s found. Harvey’s hand is pressing into his shoulder and Mike loses his train of thought when he squeezes gently, thumb running over his pulse point in a way that could be an accident. 

“Keep going,” Harvey says when Mike stutters over the words and Mike closes his eyes but carries on speaking.

It almost feels like a test, like Harvey is seeing if Mike will carry on speaking or jump up and scream sexual harassment, or slide off the seat and beg Harvey to fuck him over the smudgeless desk. 

And oh my God, where the hell did that thought come from? 

“Stop,” Harvey says and Mike does, bites at his bottom lip at Harvey’s hand curls around his neck gently. Harvey’s other hand turns the chair and Mike finds himself staring up at him and suddenly feeling incredibly small. 

Harvey narrows his eyes, slides his hand around Mike’s neck until its cupping at his face, his thumb dragging over Mike’s cheekbone, down, across his jaw and up to the corner of his mouth. Harvey’s hand stills there and Mike opens his mouth slightly. 

The exhalation of breath from Harvey is almost as rewarding as bringing in his first client in his first month. Harvey’s hand is large enough that his fingers curl around the back of Mike’s neck and he tugs. 

“Stand up,” His voice sounds like he’s been shouting for hours and Mike, because he’s lame and pathetic, can’t help but obey and stands, his legs shaking slightly. 

So lame. 

Harvey’s other hand cups his face now and he drags his thumbs across both cheekbones and under his chin, tipping Mike’s head back and he steps in closer. Harvey’s mouth is mere inches away and Mike licks his lips, parting them and Harvey’s eyes flick down to watch. Harvey moves in closer and Mike readies himself for finally finding out if Harvey tastes of coffee, mint or whiskey, or something else entirely. 

“Go home Mike,” Harvey lets him go suddenly and Mike stumbles forward, Harvey’s hand flat against his chest the only thing stopping him from faceplanting into the piles of paper and the un-vacuumed carpet (when the hell do the cleaners clean?). 

“Wha?” He asks and Harvey runs a hand through his hair, there’s a faint blush across the bridge of his nose and his eyes look darker than usual and he doesn’t look at Mike as he sits back in his chair and spins it to face the window. 

“Go home. Get some sleep, I’ll see you on Monday morning,” Harvey’s tone leaves no room for arguing, as per usual and Mike is still scratching his head as he slides into a cab and rests his head against the window.

.....

Mike tries to be normal on Monday morning, making it in before Harvey, although that is massively out of the ordinary and Donna raises her eyebrows knowingly as he slips into Harvey’s office and deposits his coffee onto the coaster (again, out of the ordinary cos he usually just dumps it on the desk and waits for Harvey’s huff of annoyance). 

His stomach is churning and he feels light headed and wishes that this phase he’s going through right now would just stop, cease and desist because its starting to affect his daily life, what with every free minute being spent thinking about the way Harvey’s hand had seemed to fit perfectly against his face. 

God Dammit. 

“Morning Rookie,” Harvey sounds normal, his usual arrogant, ass hole-ish self but Mike can feel the shift in their “relationship” (or whatever the fuck this twisted thing that has Mike wanting to do anything to get Harvey to touch him again is) the second Harvey’s heavy gaze lands on him. He raises an eyebrow at the coffee sitting on the desk and Mike sits up to attention. 

“No cream, two sugars, from that shop down the block,” he says and nearly smacks himself around the back of the head. 

Way to sound like a desperate crush addled teenager Mike. 

“Wow, if I had known that all it took to get you to be my bitch was to touch you, I would have done it weeks again,” Harvey snarks, sipping at his coffee and Mike chokes on his own saliva. 

Smooth. 

“Um...” Mike pulls at his collar and Harvey slaps at his hand. Mike drops it immediately and curses himself for being so predictably pathetic. Harvey smirks again. 

“Harvey...” Mike wants to small his head against the nearest hard surface because he sounds desperate, his voice breathy and Harvey smirks wider, presses a hand on the top of the chair Mike’s sitting in, and leans forward, towering over Mike in way that’s meant to be intimidating. Except it fails and becomes massively erotic. 

“Personally Mike, I am partial to Sir but I think we need to work up to that, don’t you?” Harvey sounds amused but there is a hint of darkness in his tone that makes Mike swallows hard. 

“Harvey, Mr Fijuki on line two,” Donna’s tinny voice comes over the intercom and Harvey stands straight, waves his hand in the direction of the door and Mike practically trips over his own feet and ignores Donna’s amused expression as he hurries to his cubicle.

.....

Harvey catches him blissfully alone next time, down in the archive room between two shelves of boxes and it smells like paper and Harvey and Mike…

Is getting ahead of himself. 

Mike is working, doing some menial task for Louis, because he basically bribed Mike again and its late and Mike has a headache building at the back of his eyes. 

He’s blaming that for switching off and not noticing the second Harvey enters the room. 

“What are you still doing here?” Harvey says and Mike jumps slightly, a piece of paper he’s reading slips out of his hand and he spins around to catch the brief smirk on Harvey’s face. 

“Doing the job you gave me and I love with all my heart,” he replies sarcastically and Harvey is suddenly close behind him, reaching around in front of him to grab the file from his hands. Harvey’s breath is warm against his neck and Mike wants to lean back against him and go to sleep forever. 

“This is for Louis,” Harvey says, and its posed as a question except they both know the answer. Mike nods anyway and Harvey’s cheek slides against Mike’s. 

The file leaves his hand and Harvey’s firm grip on his shoulder spins him around till he’s facing Harvey. Mike finds the knot on Harvey’s tie fascinating until Harvey’s fingers crook under his chin and lift his head up. 

“Do I need to remind you who you work for, Mike?” He says quietly. There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, a hint of danger too and Mike swallows (when did he start swallowing so much?), “do I?” 

Harvey is only an inch taller, at the most, but standing there, with his throat bared and Harvey standing at full height, Mike feels small and helpless and he’s not entirely adverse to the feeling, truth be told. Harvey must pick something up from him, whether it’s the way Mike licks at his lips, or the fact that he can’t help his hips from canting forward slightly, seeking any friction at all (because his dick is suddenly very interested), Mike doesn’t care or know. Harvey pushes him backwards until his back hits one of the metal shelves. Its almost hard enough to hurt, the edge is digging into his back and that sends another interested pulse down to his traitorous dick. 

When the hell did he get so kinky? 

“No,” he manages to say and Harvey steps closer, presses a thigh to Mike’s crotch and Mike sees stars. 

He may or may not groan, he’s taking the Fifth on that one. 

Harvey winds his fingers into Mike’s hand and lifts it above his head, pressing it into the shelf in a way that Mike gets the unsaid “don’t move”. The other hand is lifted and Harvey wraps his fingers around Mike’s wrists, brushing over his pulse. 

“Leave them there,” he says quietly and Mike can only nod dumbly as Harvey lets his wrists go and trails a hand down the bare skin of his forearm, “you work for me,” he says as his fingers reach the crook of Mike’s elbow. 

“I know,” Mike replies and Harvey pulls his hand away. Mike wants to bite off his tongue and press Harvey’s hand back to his skin. Harvey’s eyes narrow. 

“No talking,” he says and Mike nods again, clenching his hands together to stop himself from tugging Harvey close and rutting up against his thigh like a bitch in heat. 

Wow, there really is something wrong with him. 

Harvey’s palms are warm and dry against his cheeks, the pads of his thumbs soft against the smooth skin under Mike’s eyes. One travels down Mike’s face, over the day old stubble (because he forgot to bring his razor into work again) and across his parted lips. Mike can’t help but flick his tongue against the digit and Harvey’s nostrils twitch and his eyelids flutter. He feels a swell of pride at that, he made Harvey’s mask slip even if for just a second. 

Harvey comes closer, shifts his thigh and Mike shuts his eyes and groans, because its no where near enough pressure yet he feels like he’s about to explode. 

“Look at me,” Harvey says and Mike snaps his eyes open. Harvey’s eyes are dark, they slope downwards in a way that should make them look kind but at the moment he looks anything but. 

Mike’s hands are beginning to tingle as the blood flows down his arms. Harvey moves one hand and presses it into Mike’s hip, digs his fingers in slightly and Mike moves, trying to get closer but Harvey’s grip is strong. His hand on Mike’s face moves, curls around his neck and tugs him closer, until Harvey is out of focus and all Mike can see is a blur of tanned skin. Harvey’s breath is warm against Mike’s lips and Mike parts them, breathes out with a noise that might possibly be a “please”, and then Harvey’s lips are pressed against them. 

Its almost chaste, just a press of mouths, but Mike can feel the way Harvey’s fingers tighten at the back of his neck and at his hips, the way Harvey’s shifts his thigh again. Mike moans into Harvey’s mouth and Harvey pushes his tongue in, licking at the roof of Mike’s mouth and digging his thumb into the soft flesh under Mike’s chin. 

Mike should have known that Harvey would be an outstanding kisser. He gives off that aura and Mike has, more than once, found himself wondering what it would be like. 

Reality? Ten thousand times better. 

He’s firm, with a hard grip around Mike’s neck and hip, but there’s a softness underneath it that has Mike’s knees shaking and he keeps shifting his thigh against Mike’s dick and is driving him kind of crazy. Harvey gives one last shift of his thigh and then he pulls away. Mike must look like an idiot because he’s pretty sure he tries to chase Harvey’s mouth with his own and his eyes are still shut and he’s more than likely gaping like a, well as Harvey so succinctly put it, goldfish. 

Harvey runs his thumb over Mike’s lips again, and it slides easily this time, through their saliva and it shouldn’t be hot, but somehow, Harvey’s heavy gaze makes it the hottest thing Mike has ever felt. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Harvey says, dropping his hand from Mike’s face, squeezing once at his hip. He shoves his hands into his pockets and gets halfway to the door before Mike has enough brain power to speak. 

“Seriously? After that you’re just going to leave?” he asks and Harvey doesn’t even turn, just pulls the door open. 

“Goodnight Mike,” he throws over his shoulder as the door slams behind him. Mike lets his head fall back against the shelf, rubs absently at his wrist and flexes his fingers in an attempt to ward off the pins and needles he can feel beginning in the tips. His hip is throbbing dully where Harvey’s fingers pressed in and Mike is pretty sure he’s going to have finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. 

And he doesn’t know if that should make him feel incredibly turned on or hugely worried at his own mental state. 

He’s just about settled on a mixture of both as he finally leaves the building and heads home, weaving through the traffic until he pulls up outside his apartment block, heads up the stairs and falls into bed and a blissfully dreamless sleep.

.....

Harvey pretty much ignores him the next day, only barking orders at him until even Donna notices and asks what the hell he’s done to upset Harvey. 

The day after it’s the same and its driving Mike crazy because he can still feel Harvey’s mouth against his own and the way Harvey’s hands felt when they brushed against his wrists. 

Mike is starting to wonder if perhaps he’s done something wrong, something to make Harvey back off, he hasn’t even smirked at Mike in two days and Mike is feeling the absence like a punch in the gut. 

Yes, he’s well aware that makes him sound like a teenage girl, thank you. 

Problem is he can’t help himself, and actually now it’s making him pissed more than anything. 

It’s only until three days later when Louis is being an ass (nothing unusual there) and Mike snaps and calls him on it that Harvey actually graces him with anything other than contempt. 

His hand clamps onto Mike’s shoulder as he storms from Louis’s office and steers him towards the bathroom. To anyone watching it might look like Harvey is just about to berate Mike (again not unusual) but Mike can feel the way Harvey’s fingers tighten slightly when Mike resists and lets out a startled “what the?” Harvey pushes him inside, locks the door and shoves him up against the nearest hard surface, which happens to be a stall door. Mike groans as his head hits the wood with a dull thud and Harvey smirks as he crowds into Mike and kisses him until Mike can’t see straight or remember his own name. 

“What was that for?” Mike asks when Harvey lets him go (and he remembers how to actually speak) and tugs his impeccable suit back into position. 

“You earned that,” Harvey says, stepping far enough away that Mike can’t feel his body heat, but keeping a firm grip on Mike’s arm. 

“So...let me get this straight,” Mike says, “you only kiss me when I do something right? And snapping at Louis is a good thing?” Harvey raises an eyebrow at him and snakes a hand out to straighten Mike’s tie. 

“That’s about it,” he says, his fingers trailing over Mike’s neck and Mike swallows against Harvey’s fingers. 

“But,” Mike runs a hand through his hair and Harvey frowns, reaches out and smoothes it down again, cocking his head to the side as he does it. 

“It’s not complicated Mike,” he says in a voice that sounds like he’s talking to a five year old, “try to keep up,” he pats at Mike’s chest, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“So...” Mike begins slowly and Harvey leans in closer, cups Mike’s face and runs his thumb down Mike’s jaw, “shouting at Louis is good. What do I get for bringing a client on board?” Harvey chuckles slightly, his breath hot against Mike’s neck, and he licks at Mike’s skin. Mike shudders. 

“That gets you sex,” Harvey says quietly, his hand pressing into Mike’s hip, keeping him pressed into the stall door. Mike’s feels a surge of arousal at that and his brain goes somewhere in the vicinity of _holy crap sex with Harvey can’t cope_. 

“...and what if I get something wrong?” he manages to ask as Harvey kisses along his jaw and at the corner of his mouth. Harvey pulls back enough to speak the next words into Mike’s mouth. 

“That gets you punished,” Harvey pulls completely away and it shouldn’t be hot, it shouldn’t make Mike’s dick interested at his thinly veiled threat, but it is, and it does, and Mike is more than screwed. 

He’s totally fucked. 

“Ok then,” he nods and Harvey smiles dangerously, flicks the lock on the door and leaves Mike standing there with a half hard dick and a sudden burning passion to bring in as many new clients as possible.

.....

Over the next few days, due to the powerful allure of sex with Harvey Specter, Mike manages to secure another client all by himself (some tech genius who claims to have the next Facebook) and Jessica springs for a celebratory drink in the bar opposite the building for them. 

Louis is there scowling and Mike dragged Rachel for moral support who is sitting bolt upright clutching at her drink looking decidedly uncomfortable about sitting with the Partners. Mike kicks her gently under the table and grins and he’s rewarded with a smile back. 

Mike’s slightly buzzed, nowhere near drunk, but he’s drunk enough that his brain is nicely quiet for once and his thigh tingles from where Harvey’s is pressed up against his under the table. 

Jessica stays the obligatory hour before slipping away and Louis stays approximately five minutes longer. 

“Come on Mike, lets share a cab,” Rachel says, then downs the rest of her drink. Mike hesitates, and he feels Harvey’s thigh muscle shift next to his and a strong hand lands on his. 

“Mike and I need to go through a case,” Harvey says and Rachel blinks at him but doesn’t argue. She leans down and kisses Mikes cheek, whispers “well done” in his ear before grabbing her coat and leaving. 

Before leaving Mike. Alone. With Harvey. 

Not a good idea. 

“What case?” Mike says, pushing himself up and Harvey’s thighs slides against his own. 

“There is no case,” Harvey says pointedly, staring at Mike with those brown eyes. Mike shifts, tugs at his tie and Harvey stops him, wraps his fingers around Mike’s hand and pulls it down. 

“Ahh so the case is a lie?” Mike snickers and Harvey rolls his eyes, gestures at the waiter who brings over their jackets and takes the cash left by Jessica. 

“Get up,” Harvey says and Mike tries not to jump up as soon as the words are out of Harvey’s mouth. He tries, but he fails, and Harvey curls the side of his mouth in a knowing smile as he stalks towards the door of the bar, Mike trails pathetically behind. 

Harvey’s limo is conveniently waiting outside, and Ray nods at Mike as Harvey opens the door and slides in. 

“Get in the car Mike,” he says from the inside and Mike’s insides flop around like he had a bad the burrito for breakfast. He rubs at the back of his neck suddenly nervous, Harvey’s words that gets you sex sounding loud and clear in his head.

“That’s ok I have my bike and…” Mike trails off at Harvey’s raised eyebrow. 

“Get. In. The. Car, Michael,” he says, low and dangerous and Mike can’t really refuse that can he? 

“Ok, getting in,” he says going towards the door. 

“Other side,” Harvey snaps as he slams the door and narrowly avoids cutting off Mike’s fingers in the process. 

“So...” Mike starts sliding into the car. 

“Shut up Mike,” Harvey says and Mike does. 

There’s a sort of vibrating silence in the back of the car and it makes Mike feel like a kid at Christmas, waiting silently whilst his parents decide when to give him presents and that thought is just weird now because he can’t get the image of Harvey wearing a Santa’s outfit out of his head. 

He snorts and Harvey throws him a glare across the empty space between them. 

“Sorry,” he mutters and Harvey’s hand lands heavily on his thigh. Harvey doesn’t flinch, just continues looking forward, the only outward sign he’s doing anything other than sitting in a car being driving to his no doubt outrageously expensive apartment is the slight twitch in his jaw when Mike shifts his legs open. 

Mike can’t help it, its really not his fault. Harvey’s hand is warm and solid and his fingers are playing against the inseam of his pants and really, its not fair that Harvey should have this affect on him, not when he’s his boss. And a guy. And an asshole. 

“What do you get for bringing a client on board Mike?” Harvey asks, his fingers tightening against Mike’s thigh and Mike throws a glance at the screen between them and Ray, and thankfully, its up. 

“Um...sex?” Mike answers and Harvey nods. His hand leaves Mike’s thigh and he crooks a finger at him. Mike scoots a little closer, his heart thumping in his chest. 

“Good boy,” Harvey mutters, running a hand through Mike’s hair and gripping at the back of his head. He tugs gently, leans forward and licks a stripe up Mike’s neck as Ray pulls the car in front of Harvey’s apartment. 

Harvey lets him go and slips out of the car and, surprisingly (so surprisingly that Mike actually freezes for a second) Harvey holds his hand out for Mike to help him out of the car. 

His hand is warm as Mike curls his fingers around Harveys, and has a sudden urge to feel those hands against his chest.

“Goodnight Ray,” Harvey says and Ray smiles back at him and nods goodnight. 

“How long are these briefs going to take cos I need to get to _my own place_ ,” Mike makes his voice louder hoping that Ray will hear and Harvey chuckles, lets go of his hand and places it on Mike’s lower back, steering him towards the building. 

“He’s been my driver for eight years, Rookie, you think me taking home my associate is the worst thing he’s ever seen?” 

“So you take home associates a lot then?” Mike asks as Harvey punches in the code to get the elevator moving and pushes Mike back against the glass wall, working his hands up under Mike’s jacket. 

“No,” Harvey says simply, mouthing at Mike’s neck and he really needs to stop doing that because it’s all going to be over far too quickly is Harvey keeps sucking on his skin like that. 

“So I’m the first then?” Mike can’t help but ask and Harvey worries the skin of Mike’s neck gently between his teeth before pulling away and looking at him with an amused expression. Mike squirms under the scrutiny and fiddles with the end of Harvey’s tie. Harvey’s gaze flicks down to Mike’s fingers twirling his vastly expensive tie and then back up to Mike’s face. 

“I thought you had more brains than that,” he says cryptically as the elevator stops and the doors slide open and Mike forgets how to breathe for a second. 

“Holy...shit,” he breathes out and Harvey lets out a laugh, heading off in one direction as Mike heads towards the enormous windows. Not that they can really be described as windows, more like glass walls. Mike presses his hands against them and looks out and down, savouring the slight sway of vertigo he gets from looking down on heights. “I do _not_ want to know how much this costs a month,” he says and feels Harvey’s hands on his shoulders, pulling off his jacket. Mike stands up straight and lets Harvey slide it down his arms. 

“No, you really don’t,” Harvey replies, his fingers tugging Mike’s already loosened tie over his head. His arms are warm around Mike as he undoes the buttons on Mike’s shirt, his mouth hot and wet against Mike’s neck, licking at the mark he already placed there and for some reason that makes Mike incredibly turned on. The tips of Harvey’s fingers graze down Mike’s arms as he slips that off as well and it joins Mike’s jacket over the arm of the Italian couch. 

And then its Harvey’s hands against Mike’s skin and Mike thinks he might be more than happy to die right now. Harvey’s hand presses into his stomach, his palm flat, finger splaying out and pulls them together. Mike knows he’s already half hard, from the heavy petting in the elevator, but he’s almost surprised to feel Harvey in exactly the same predicament. He shifts back against him and Harvey’s hisses his breath in, curling his fingers against Mike’s stomach.

Mike moans, arches his hips forward and Harvey pulls him back. 

“Easy,” he whispers into Mike’s ear and Mike goes still as Harvey unbuckles Mike’s belt and pants. “Put your hands against the window,” Harvey says and Mike does it without thinking, leans forward slightly and presses his palms to the cool glass. “You did good today, Mike,” Harvey is saying, working his hand into the front of Mike’s pants and he could be reciting the whole of Louis’s latest brief for all Mike cares, as long as his voice keeps muttering darkly in his ear and his hand keeps on going. 

Harvey stills just shy of where Mike wants him to be and Mike whines, pressing his hips forward.

“You want this?” Harvey asks, twitching his fingers against Mike’s skin, “tell me,” Harvey rolls his hips against Mike’s. 

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Mike replies, pressing back against him and gritting his teeth in frustration at the lack of sex that’s going on right now. 

Mike finds himself with his back flat against the glass and his vision full of Harvey. Harvey’s eyes have gone dark and his grip around Mike’s arms is just this side of painful.

There’s a split second where Mike considers keeping his mouth shut and seeing how far he can push the anger that seems to be boiling up inside Harvey but Harvey pushes his hand back into Mike’s pants and all thoughts of defiance fly out of his head as Harvey finally gets his hand around Mike’s dick. 

“Oh fuck, I want this,” he mutters, letting his head fall back against the window and Harvey’s mouth attaches to his neck again. He twists his hand and Mike groans again, chasing the pull of Harvey’s hands with his hips. Harvey kisses him then, licks into his mouth and twists his hand almost savagely and the mixture of the soft kiss and the harsh twist has Mike’s brain short circuiting. 

“Good,” Harvey says against Mike’s mouth, “now you’ll come when I tell you to,” Mike whimpers as Harvey squeezes at the base of his dick and the dark thrill of Harvey’s words sends blood shooting right down to his crotch and he feels light headed and clutches at Harvey’s shoulders, “got that?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mike mutters, his nails snagging on Harvey’s suit. Harvey chuckles, twists his hand again and drags it up Mike’s dick slowly, thumbing over the slit and Mike’s knees nearly give way. 

“No Mike,” Harvey says, pressing in closer and mouthing along his jaw, “we’ve been through this, its Harvey, or Sir.” 

Mike can feel it building, the insistent stroking from Harvey and the dark words whispered against his skin, the feel of Harvey’s stubble rasping against his jawline and Mike can feel his orgasm building low in his stomach. He bites down on his bottom lip and presses his hands to Harvey’s shoulders and Harvey stills again. 

“Not yet Rookie,” he says and Mike takes a deep breath through his nose as Harvey’s hand just holds on, warm and solid and knowing and Mike doesn’t really want to think about other people that have been in the same position with Harvey. 

“You are a sadistic bastard,” Mike mutters and Harvey runs his thumb down Mike’s throat. Mike swallows and Harvey kisses at the hollow at the base of Mike’s throat. 

“You have no idea,” he says and it makes Mike’s blood run cold. Harvey starts moving his hand again, twisting on the upstroke and Mike really isn’t sure how much longer he can last. Harvey drags their mouths together and ruts up against Mike’s thigh, his hand not faltering in its smooth strokes.

“Harvey...” Mike breathes out and even to his own ears it sounds desperate and needy and he can’t remember when he’s ever sounded like that. “God, please.” 

“Please what, Mike?” Harvey asks, thumbing at the slit at the tip of Mike’s dick again and the only reason Mike manages to stay upright is because Harvey is pressing so goddam close. 

“God I need...I can’t...fuck...” Mike is well aware he’s babbling like a fool and he slips his hands under Harvey’s jacket, feels warm skin and muscles under his fingers. 

“Ok Mike, come now,” Harvey says and then bites down on Mike’s collar bone. 

Nowhere in the history of Mike’s sexual exploits (which aren’t that numbered but still varied) has Mike ever needed an edge of pain to orgasm. But Harvey’s dark voice and sure hand, the bite to his collar bone all add up to possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. He feels boneless and useless and there is no way in hell he will be able to stand on his own. 

“Bedroom,” Harvey orders, wrapping his fingers around Mike’s arms and hauling him upright. Mike’s legs are shaking and Harvey gently pushes him, his hands steering him towards what Mike can only assume is the bedroom. Although it’s not much a room. The glass walls continue in here as well, and Mike briefly wonders how the hell they’re kept so clean, but Harvey pushes between his shoulders and he’s falling face first on to the bed. 

“That was uncalled for,” he mutters, lifting his face from the sheets (god they smell good, like Harvey) and glaring at Harvey. Harvey raises an eyebrow and slips out of his jacket and waistcoat.

Mike’s seen Harvey without the jacket on, but never in just a shirt and he never thought a shirt would be sexy, but, holy crap, it is. It stretches gently over Harvey’s chest and biceps, gathers in slightly at the waist and Mike’s mouth waters. He moves, twists his body round and reaches out, his fingers hovering over the buttons. Harvey looks down at him, cups his face and lifts his head, sliding his thumb across the hickey over his pulse and the bite mark on his collar bone. 

What Mike really wants to do is rip the shirt open and bite at Harvey’s skin, but he thinks Harvey might chuck him down the elevator shaft if he does that, those shirts are probably worth more than his life. His hands shake slightly as he undoes the buttons one by one, grazing his knuckles against Harvey’s chest. Harvey’s face doesn’t change, his jaw clenches though, muscles quivering under his skin and his fingers keep stroking at Mike’s neck. 

Mike gets the shirt undone, slides his palms around Harvey’s waist, pulls him forward and presses a kiss to Harvey’s flat stomach. He feels the muscles shift under his lips as Harvey shucks off his shirt.

Mike’s finding a lot recently that reality is better than fantasy and Harvey, half naked, is no exception. He hovers his hands over Harvey’s belt and looks up at him.

“Can I?” he asks and he doesn’t know why he feels the need to, just that something in his gut tells him to, and the reward for doing so it Harvey hauling him to his feet and crushing their mouths together, so hard Mike swears he can almost taste blood. 

When he’s finished devouring Mike he pushes on his shoulder and Mike sits down heavily on the bed. 

“You’re learning Rookie,” he says with something akin to pride, then his eyes darken and his grasp on Mike’s shoulder tightens, “do it.” Mike feels a swell of pride at the fact that he sounds utterly wrecked right now. Mike unclasps the belt, draws it out of the loops one by one and by the time he’s finished Harvey’s breathing is ragged and Mike can’t get his pants undone fast enough. He slides his hands down Harvey’s thighs as he pushes pants and boxers down, the skin smooth under his palms. Then he’s face to face with Little Harvey. 

Well, not so little actually. It’s bigger than he expected (there he goes again with reality versus fantasy), hard and smooth and there’s a drop of pre-cum on the tip 

Mike licks his lips and leans forward, pressing his mouth to the top of Harvey’s thigh. Harvey slides his hand into Mike’s hair and grips a handful. There’s that sharp edge of pain again and Mike licks a long stripe up the underside of Harvey’s dick, pressing his tongue into the slit and Harvey groans. 

Its been a while since Mike has done this (a few fumbled times in college, one or twice with Trevor when they’ve been monumentally high, and that one time when Mike was desperate for weed and…lets just say that was a low point for Mike), but he’s finding its kind of like riding a bike. Except this bike is bigger than normal, and attached to his boss. 

Mike takes the opportunity to swallow Harvey down whole whilst he’s dragging in a deep breath and Harvey practically chokes, his grip tightening in Mike’s hair as Mike hums around him. 

Harvey is heavy on his tongue, the skin smooth and hot and Mike is blessed (most would say) with a weak gag reflex. He straightens out his neck and swallows, pulling Harvey’s hips closer, till his nose is practically buried in the dark hair on Harvey’s stomach. Harvey’s grip in his hair tightens even more as he pushes his hips forward, Mike hums again and Harvey mutters a soft curse, letting go with one hand and running it down the back of Mike’s neck. 

The combination of the gentle hand at his neck, the strong grip on his hair and Harvey using Mike’s mouth the way Harvey wants to makes Mike’s eyes water and he grips at Harvey’s hips, briefly wondering what the bruises will look like tomorrow morning. 

Mike can feel the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes and Harvey rubs his thumbs across his cheeks, smearing them into the skin as he hauls Mike to his feet and kisses him hard, murmuring “so good” against his mouth. He kicks his pants off and out of the way. 

Harvey braces his hands on Mike’s chest and shoves him down onto the bed again. Mike doesn’t even have a chance to protest before Harvey is on him, pressing him into the mattress and the $1000 sheets and kissing him again, all tongue and teeth and its one of the hottest things Mike has ever felt. He’s still hard, Mike can feel his dick against his stomach, and he can taste the salt from Harvey’s pre-cum and from the sweat on his lips. 

“Over,” Harvey orders and forcibly flips Mike onto his front. Harvey runs a hand down his back, pausing over bumps of Mike’s spine and the scar that Mike got from falling off his bike when he was eight. Harvey leans down and kisses along his spine, his tongue hot and wet against his skin. 

Harvey’s hands worm under him and grips round his hips, pull him onto all fours and he plasters himself along Mike’s back. 

“Top drawer Mike,” he says and Mike doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrambles forward, pulls open the drawer and fumbles around till his hand closes over a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Harvey takes them from his hand and Mike hears the flip of the bottle just before he feels a cool, slick finger circling round his hole. Mike sucks in a breath, pushes his hips back because he’s had enough of foreplay, but Harvey’s grip on his hips stop him. 

“Easy, Rookie,” Harvey says again and then there’s slight pressure and he’s pushing a finger in slow fucking slowly Mike thinks he might go mad. He must whine because Harvey runs a hand down his spine again and shushes him, his breath hot against Mike’s ear. The finger inside him curls and pulls back out and when it pushes back in there’s another one. 

“Come on,” Mike urges. It’s been a while, he can count on one hand how many times he’s done this, but Mike knows what he wants, knows what he needs and right now he needs Harvey’s dick inside him. 

“So pushy,” Harvey mutters, and Mike hears the metallic rip of the condom packet, “might have to nip that in the bud, remind you who’s in charge here,” he says, pressing his hips forward and Mike can feel the tip of Harvey’s dick pushing against his hole. If Harvey’s grip on his hips wasn’t as strong as it was, Mike would have pushed back by now but Harvey holds him steady, pushes agonisingly slowly inside till his hips are pressed up tight against Mike’s. They both groan, Mikes a little more wanton and porn like than Harvey’s. Harvey usually holds himself together when Mike is more ready to strike out, to act on his impulses. 

Harvey doesn’t waste any time setting an rhythm and its almost harsh, but Mike loves the sound of skin slapping together, the feel of Harvey’s hand sliding through the sweat on his back, and the fact that they are doing this in front of giant windows adds to the thrill. Harvey doesn’t talk, Mike didn’t expect him to be a talker, but he makes little choked noises that makes him sound like he’s dying, cut off groans in the back of his throat when Mike clenches his muscles around him and Harvey’s hands are hard around his hips, pressing into the tender almost bruises from earlier. 

Harvey reaches a hand, slick with lube, between them and wraps his fingers around Mike’s dick and Mike’s surprised to find he’s hard again. Harvey shifts, and drives in and _holy shit_ that feels good. 

Harvey lets out a noise that may be a laugh and Mike knows he said that out loud. Harvey’s grip around his dick is slick but hard and he twists his hand as he drives in, strokes upwards as he pulls out and Mike can’t think straight, squeezes his eyes shut as Harvey’s rhythm gets almost erratic. He grunts, pulls out completely, hooks a hand between Mike’s thighs and flips him onto his back, lifts his thighs up and pushes back in. He leans down, driving his hips in and tangles his fingers in Mike’s hair again, kissing him hard and Mike tastes sweat again. 

Harvey comes with a grunt, a muffled shout and his lip caught between his teeth, driving up hard into Mike and hitting that spot again. His fingers clench around Mike’s dick then move, sliding up as Harvey drives his hips in again and then Mike, to his utmost surprise, is coming again, hot and sticky over his own stomach. 

There’s a stillness after sex that Mike loves, the moment just after orgasm when the whole world seems to stop and its just him and Harvey, their breathing heavy and Harvey’s fingers sliding absently through Mike’s come. Mike feels boneless, utterly fucked out and comfortably numb, but he hisses slightly as Harvey pulls out. Harvey leans down and kisses him once, just a press of lips as he breathes heavily through his nose, trying to catch his breath. 

“ _That’s_ what you get for bringing in new clients,” he says as he collapses next to Mike, his voice muffled by Mike’s neck and Mike laughs. 

“Pretty effective motivational tool,” he says and Harvey lifts his head. 

“This doesn’t go into work,” he says, his voice serious, his hand still on Mike’s stomach. 

“I get that,” Mike replies, shifting slightly, stretching out his now aching muscles. 

“I mean it,” Harvey says, pressing his hand into Mike’s skin and Mike stops stretching and looks up into serious brown eyes. 

“I _get_ it,” he says, “I’m not going to run into Rachel’s office tomorrow and go ‘oh guess what, I’m got fucked by Har unf…” Harvey silences him with his mouth, snaking one arm around his waist and splaying his fingers out across his lower back, pulling them together. “…vey last night.’ I’m not a girl,” he finishes when Harvey lets him go. 

“I don’t want you strutting round the office like you own the place just because you’re sleeping with the boss,” Harvey says. 

“’Sleeping’ would imply more than once…” Mike replies then his brain catches up with him (epic sex will do that to you), “hey I do _not_ strut,” he’s pretty sure he’s pouting right now and Harvey leans forward and nibbles on his lower lip. 

“You do,” Harvey says, pressing their hips together and Mike loses his mind for a second. 

“No I...”

“Shut up Mike,” Harvey says, good naturedly and pushes Mike down into the mattress. 

“But I...” Harvey cuts him off again by kissing him, driving his hips down and if Mike hadn’t come twice in an hour he would be hard again already. Harvey then rolls them both until Mike is splayed out over his broad chest. 

“Mike...go to sleep,” he mutters, his fingers drawing circles on Mike’s lower back. 

Its a testament to how deep he’s already in with Harvey that Mike shuts up and actually goes to sleep with Harvey’s heartbeat loud in his ear.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike wakes and has that moment of _where the fuck am I_? But there’s a possessive hand around his waist and a hot breath against his ear and everything comes crashing back suddenly. Harvey holding him down, Harvey kissing him, the slide of skin against skin.

“Fuck,” Harvey lets out a puff of air that could be a laugh and his hand tightens in Mike’s skin. 

“Yes we did,” he says, his voice thick with sleep, “are you going to have a freak out cos if you are I’m having the first shower.” 

To be honest, Mike isn’t sure. On the one hand he had the best sex he’d ever had and his muscles are still protesting and there’s a dull ache on his hip where Harvey had pressed his hand in hard. On the other hand it was with his boss, who happens to be a possessive, dominant bastard. 

Harvey’s lips slide across the back of hiss neck to further prove Mike’s point

“No, I’m good,” he says. 

And surprisingly he is. 

“Good,” Harvey runs his hand down Mike’s stomach and wraps his fingers around his dick and Mike pushes back against him. Harvey’s arm is under his head, curled backwards and his hand grips Mike’s hair, pulling it against his shoulder and he drags his hand upwards and runs his palm across the top of Mike’s dick. Mike gasps, arches into the touch. “Yeah, come on Mike,” Harvey says, darkly into his ear, curling his fingers around his dick again and pushing his own hips forward. Mike fucks himself into Harvey’s hand, the friction and lack of lube give enough of an edge of pain to bring Mike over the edge, coming hard embarrassingly quickly. 

Harvey runs his hand up Mike’s chest, smears the come into his skin and pulls his face round to kiss him, his hand sticky and warm again Mike’s face. 

“Go shower,” Harvey say when he pulls away and stands up. He stretches and Mike takes a second to drink in the sight of Harvey Specter in full naked glory. Harvey smirks down at him and point towards the bathroom. “Shower...go, there’s a spare razor under the sink, don’t forget to shave,” he orders and Mike mock salutes him. 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he doesn’t miss the way Harvey narrows his eyes and bites at his bottom lip. 

“Shower…now Mike.” 

Luckily the shower doesn’t have glass walls and Mike can shower in vague privacy. He’s not an exhibitionist after all. It gives him time to think as well, not that he has much to think about. 

He’s sleeping with his boss. 

But it’s the add-on’s that come with that that are making Mike feel a little disconcerted. Like the way Harvey talks in that low voice, the way Mike could only come when Harvey told him to, the way that Harvey’s hands around his hips makes Mike feel completely subservient. 

And that’s the crux of the predicament. The operative word.

It’s completely different to any kind of sexual experience Mike’s ever had but yet it was also one of the best. Letting someone else take control, take over, has a certain appeal that Mike isn’t sure he could put into words even if he wanted to. 

He steps out of the shower and grabs the nearest towel, wrapping it around his waist and he locates the razor under the sink and wonders briefly how many people have had to use Harvey’s spare razors. 

His mind is still churning when Harvey slips in behind him and slides his hands around his waist and mouths at the bite mark on his neck. Mike leans back against him and Harvey holds him close, strong hands flat against his chest.

“Why does it look like I had sex with a vampire last night?” Mike asks and Harvey tugs his head to the side and runs his fingers over the love bite on his neck and the red bite mark on his collar bone. 

“Looks good on you,” Harvey mutters, pressing his fingers into the bite mark. 

Mike moves his hips and Harvey’s arms tighten. 

“You want it again?” Harvey asks, sliding his hand down Mike’s chest and twisting his nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Do you need to ask?” Mike says and Harvey pinches his nipple hard enough that Mike hisses in pain. 

“Apparently I do,” Harvey replies and Mike pushes his hips back. 

“Yes,” he breathes out as Harvey sucks on his neck, “yes I want it,” his well manicured (yes Harvey gets a manicure) nails scrape down Mike’s chest.

“Well we’re running out of time so tough,” he says, dropping Mike and leaving him half hard and clutching at the bathroom counter. “Get dressed, there’s coffee on in the kitchen,” Harvey says, running his hand across Mike’s shoulders as he walks past him. 

“You’re an evil bastard, you know that?” Mike says. Harvey grins and slaps Mike’s ass. 

“Get your ass in gear; you don’t want to be late for work. I hear your boss is an evil bastard,” he says, stepping into the shower and turning it on, effectively shutting off any come back Mike can think of. 

“He really is,” Mike mutters darkly, glaring at the shower, and in no way is he getting turned on by looking at the lines of Harvey’s body through the steamed up glass.

.....

Harvey’s hand is warm against his thigh in the car as he talks about work and Mike tries to remember his own name. 

He kisses Mike hard in the elevator, reminds him that this doesn’t go into work which confuses Mike some as they’re technically in work and Harvey’s the one pushing him against the metallic wall and kissing him like he can’t get enough. 

He says as much and Harvey narrows his eyes, tugs at Mike’s hair and licks up his throat. 

“My rules Rookie,” he mutters and lets him go just before they reach their floor and he strides off down the corridor to his office without a backwards glance.

.....

“Hey Rachel…do I strut?” Rachel looks up from behind a pile of books, cocks her head to the side and surveys him briefly. Her hair is pulled back from her face it makes her look softer somehow and Mike is struck with the thought that if he hadn’t just been fucked within an inch of his life by Harvey he would probably still be sniffing around her. 

“Definitely,” she says looking back down at her books. 

“Thank...wait...what?” Rachel purses her lips to keep herself from smiling as Mike crosses his arms in front of his chest. 

“Well, I’d say more…prance, maybe even mince but strut would work,” She clarifies, clicking the top of her pen with her thumb. 

“Wouldn’t you say it’s more of a manly swagger?” Mike asks and Rachel laughs, tries to cover it up with a cough. 

“...No,” she says definitely. Then she narrows her eyes and leans forward slightly. “...what’s that?” she uses the tip of her pen to point at him and he looks down expecting to see some mark or something on his white shirt (well Harvey’s shirt, its slightly too big across the chest but they may have got come on Mike’s after Harvey stepped out of the shower and pressed Mike against the bedroom window). 

“What?” he asks finding nothing but a large expanse of white cotton. 

“That...” she gestures at her own neck and Mike can feel the heat in his cheeks as he has the sudden sinking feeling he knows what she’s talking about. “Is that?” She stands and rounds the desk and Mike fights the urge to run, “oh my god, that’s a love bite. Michael Ross, you dark horse,” she’s laughing and she pats his shoulder. “Who was it?” She asks, crossing her arms and Mike tugs the collar of his shirt up, tries in vain to cover up the mark. Rachel sighs and steps forward again, bats his hands away and tugs at his collar and tie until she cocks her head to the side again and nods. 

“No one,” Mike replies and Rachel raises an eyebrow. 

“Sure, ok, you fell, right?” she asks with a hint of a smirk curling at the corner of her lips. 

“God _everyone_ here is evil, first this,” he gestures at his neck, “then your inquisition and…” Mike says pulling at the handle on her door and Rachel gasps, pressing her hand flat against the glass, effectively stopping Mike from opening it.

“It was someone from here,” she says, her eyes narrowing again and twinkling with mischief and Mike feels his stomach clench. 

Oh shit.

“No,” he snaps and wrenches the door open. He hears Rachel’s footsteps behind him as he races down the corridor. 

“Who was it Mike?” She asks and Mike ducks into the nearest Men’s Room, smirks as he shuts the door and slams his head against it. 

“Any reason why you’re running in here like Cerberus is on your tail?” Harvey voice is amused and dark in his ear and Mike feels his hands snake around his waist. Mike spins and leans back against the door and Harvey crowds a little closer. 

“Rachel was after me,” he says and Harvey looks amused, his gaze going darker as it flicks down to Mike’s neck. 

“Do I need to lay claim on you?” Harvey says and _oh holy Pavlovian Response Batman_ Mike’s arousal kicks up ten notches. He covers up his need to sink to his knees and suck that smirk off Harvey’s face out through his dick by looking at him like a love sick girl from those novels that Jenny used to read. 

“You’d do that for me?” he quips and Harvey presses in closer, cups his face hard.

“You have no idea what I’d do,” he says and kisses him deep, his tongue pushing into his mouth. Mike groans and arches up into Harvey. 

And Christ, he’s not sure when he became a sex addict but he needs Harvey right now, its the middle of the day and Mike has come four times in the last 12 hours yet he still needs Harvey’s hands on him. 

“You want me, Mike?” Harvey says, like he’s reading Mike’s mind and Mike gasps out as yes as Harvey presses the heel of his hand into Mike’s dick. Harvey pulls away and cups Mike’s face again, running his thumbs across his cheeks like his did last night and searches Mike’s face. “You’re making me break my own rules, Mike,” he says and there’s hint of reproach in his voice, like it’s Mike’s fault, even though Mike isn’t sure he has a clue what he’s talking about. 

“I...” Mike starts and Harvey kisses him, grinding his hips into Mike’s and Mike tugs on his belt, trying to get him closer.

“I’d have you up against this wall if I had protection,” Harvey grinds out, rutting up against Mike’s thigh.

“Oh you evil....fuck, do that again,” Mike says as Harvey bites gently on his ear lobe. Harvey laughs and pulls it between his teeth, pressing the heel of his hand to Mike’s dick again.

“You know,” say Harvey conversationally, “you haven’t done anything right today, so technically you don’t deserve this,” he punctuates the word “this” with a harsh press of his hand and the curl of his fingers. 

“Jesus don’t fucking stop,” Mike clutches at his arm and lets his head fall back against the door, “please don’t stop.” 

Harvey’s breathing hitches at the word please and he curls his fingers again, grinding his palm into Mike’s dick, his other hand wrapping around Mike’s neck and hauling him in for a kiss. 

Fuck, he’s going to come in his pants like a horny teenager. Harvey bites at his lower lip and rubs harder against his dick and Mike thinks that maybe that’s Harvey’s plan. 

“Harvey…stop,” Mike gasps, clutching at his wrist and Harvey freezes, lifts his head in time for Mike to see something like worry flash across his face. “I…” Mike can feel his cheeks flaming and _Christ_ all he wants is for Harvey to touch him again. “I am _not_ coming in my pants,” he says and the worry floods out of Harvey’s eyes, gets replaced by mischief and a smirk twists on his lips. 

“Yes you will,” he says, “because I say so,” and moves his hand again and Mike groans so loudly that Harvey’s other hand clamps over his mouth. “Shhh,” he whispers, pressing his lips to Mike’s forehead. Mike nods and squeezes his eyes shut as Harvey grinds the heel of his hand down and Mike comes, his teeth biting into Harvey’s hand. “That’s my boy,” he hisses out as Mike jerks against his hand, rides out yet another orgasm from Harvey and then slumps back against the wall. 

“Well shit,” he says, looking down at his, now completely ruined, pants and Harvey smiles, runs a hand through his hair and pulls his head back. 

“You need to cater for every eventuality, Rookie,” Harvey says, like he’s teaching a lesson, his voice slow and patient and Mike shudders. “There is a spare pair of pants in my office, but remember yours next time,” he says, letting go of Mike and winding his fingers into his lapels, tugging him off the door. He kisses him quickly, letting his tongue slide into Mike’s mouth briefly. “That concludes today’s lesson,” he says and then completely lets Mike go, turns to the sink and runs cold water over his hands. 

“The lesson?” 

“There’s always a lesson, Mike, look out for it next time,” Harvey tugs at Mike’s collar, covering up the marks on his neck as he opens the door. “Make sure those are hidden,” he says as he slips out into the corridor. 

Mike wants to punch him, he really does, and if he could get his limbs working again he probably would (well he’d probably think about it just like he’s doing now but not actually do anything about it). The Lesson. Mike scoffs to himself, tugging his jacket down enough to cover the wet patch on his pants. He scowls at himself in the mirror and smoothes down his hair with a handful of water. 

His jacket’s wrinkled and his lips are swollen and to anyone who has even one eye in their head it looks like Mike has been jerking off in the bathroom and he sends a silent curse up to Harvey for that one, because he no doubt looks impeccable, as per fucking usual, because he wasn’t the one who just came in his hands, he wasn’t the one who felt like his head was about to explode when the whispered words of “that’s my boy” were said into his skin. 

Asshole. 

He’s going to get it back, he decides as he pulls the door open to find Donna waiting outside with a wry smile and a pressed pair of pants. 

Definitely going to get him back. 

Mike’s intelligent enough to sit the Bar without actually studying, he can come up with some kind of revenge.

.....

The way to Hell is paved with good intentions. 

Not that revenge on your boss for making you come in your pants are good intentions but anyway. The revenge plans are put on the back burner as work covers him and Harvey is being a dick. So is Louis. If Mike didn’t know they both hated each other, he might think they were working together to drive him slowly mad. It takes three days for Harvey to look at him with dark eyes and order him to his office at 11 pm in the evening. As soon as Mike opens the door though, he’s hit with the feeling that Harvey has been holding himself back on purpose and he’s snapped. 

Its not so much a feeling as he’s kind of slapped in the face with it, what with the way Harvey slams him up against the wall and starts to devour his mouth like it’s the last cheeseburger in New York. Not that Harvey would eat a cheeseburger (“do you know how what that will do to your digestive system?”). 

“Thought this didn’t come into work?” Mike manages to ask as Harvey tugs his shirt out from his pants and runs his hands up Mike’s chest, pinching at his nipples. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Harvey snaps and presses down on Mike’s shoulders. 

If Mike thought Harvey was an ass before, its nothing compared to the way he feels about him now, for making him wait so damn long and if it was anyone else he would tell them where to shove it, paybacks a bitch and all that. But Mike goes willingly because honestly he’s only human and its been too long and, well, its Harvey. 

Harvey’s dick is already half hard as he tugs it out of the still neatly pressed pants and licks up the length. Harvey’s hands are in his hair and one hand tugs whilst the other pets and soothes. 

Mike swallows him down, hums around him and digs his fingers into Harvey’s hips. Harvey fucks his mouth like he owns it, pulsing his hips forward so far that Mike’s eyes water. 

But then one tiny detail that he should have remember occurs to him and he pulls away with a lewd, wet pop that makes Harvey groan and tug at his hair. 

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asks. 

“Your office walls are glass,” Mike says, and he can feel the blush spreading across his cheeks. Harvey hauls him to his feet by his shirt, spins them and pushes him towards the desk. 

“I bet you’d love it if someone was watching,” he mutters, voice dark and sexy (how the hell had he never noticed how fucking sexy Harvey’s voice was?). “Let people know that _I’m_ fucking you.” 

When the hell did Mike become such a kinky bastard that got off on dirty talk of ownership? Because that right there, that’s fucking hot enough to make his knees go weak. 

Mike’s pants are shoved roughly down his thighs, (so much so that Mike thinks he might possibly have fabric burn come the morning) and Harvey bends him over the immaculate desk and fucks him so hard Mike sees stars. 

“Did you get the lesson this time?” Harvey says against the sweaty skin of Mike’s spine after he comes. Mike’s hand is sticky from coming across his own hand and he resists the urge to wipe at his pants as Harvey spins him around and pulls his pants up for him.

“Patience is a virtue?” Mike tries, grasping at straws because he pretty much shot the rest of his brain out of his dick just then and he needs time to recover, not go through lessons of their sexual exploits. 

“Good boy,” Harvey mutters, pulling him close and kissing him deep. “Now, I’m going home,” Harvey says letting him go. 

“Am I coming?” Mike asks, trying to keep the hope out of his voice (God he sounds like a school girl with a crush sometimes). Harvey raises an eyebrow and his fingers twitch by his sides. 

“Lessons never end Rookie,” he says picking up a stack of files from the desk and gesturing Mike to follow. 

Which he does, like the puppy that he is. 

Oh God and now he’s using Harvey’s analogies against himself.

.....

Harvey makes him breakfast the next morning and Mike adds that to the column of “things you didn’t expect about Harvey Specter.” 

Harvey smiles at him over the rim of his coffee cup, watching with an amused expression as Mike tucks into the eggs that Harvey cooked. But there’s something else in his face, something that Mike can’t figure out. 

“Wha?” he asks through a mouthful of eggs and toast and Harvey rolls his eyes in disgust. 

“Never do that again,” he says, putting his coffee down and twisting Mike’s chair around till he’s facing him. There are fresh bites on his neck and Mike feels a sharp pain as Harvey presses his fingers to them, his eyes going darker than normal. 

Mike swallows the mouthful and looks up at him. 

“What were you looking at?” he asks and Harvey’s eyes find his. 

“Just trying to figure out if you deserve a blow job,” he says and if Mike hadn’t swallowed he would be choking right now. 

“I think so,” Mike says and Harvey laughs, running his thumbs across Mike’s cheeks. 

“You would,” he replies lips millimetres from Mike’s. He lets him go, after nudging their noses together gently. And that takes Mike by surprise, the sweet almost “relationshipy” gesture from Harvey making his head spin. “We’ve got to get to work,” Harvey says, shrugging on his jacket and Mike readies himself for another day of sexual torture. 

It’s a hard life.

.....

It’s 11.30 at night when Mike finally makes it home a few days later and he’s looking forward to pulling his clothes off and falling into bed for a (relatively) early night but the banging on his door stops him as he shrugs off his jacket. 

“Jesus, what?” he snaps as he wrenches open to door to find Harvey, smirking (as per usual) with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“You busy?” he asks, barging past Mike into the apartment. 

“If I say yes will you go away and let me sleep?” Mike shuts the door and Harvey turns, slipping his jacket off and looking for a clean surface to deposit it. 

“No,” he says simply and Mike holds his hand out for the jacket, hangs it on a peg by the door. 

“So you’re here because...” Mike asks, leaning against a wall as Harvey looks around him with a mild look of disgust on his face. Mike can’t deny what seeing him here does to his insides, even the way he’s looking at Mike’s home like its not worthy of the title “home”, there’s something about the way his jaw clenches and his eyes squint up like he’s trying to figure something out, the wrinkles at the corners that make Mike want to lean forward at lick them, but he’s also tired, bone weary in a way he hasn’t been for…well ever. 

“I wanted to see the puppy’s natural habitat and I must say Mike, it’s…revolting,” Harvey says with a smile and reaches out to Mike, snagging his fingers through Mike’s belt loops and slots their hips together. Mike wraps his fingers around Harvey’s arms. 

“Oh, you think you can insult me and get away with it,” he asks and Harvey slides his hands up Mike’s back, pressing their chests together. He smells of his aftershave, coffee and a hint of whiskey as he leans forward. The smell always did things to Mike before they started this, but now its even worse and Mike closes his eyes briefly, breathing in and when he opens them there is a flicker of amusement and something else darker in Harvey’s eyes. 

“I know I can,” he replies, licking at Mike’s throat and Mike feels his legs shake. 

“Yeah, you’re right, you can,” he answers and slumps forward letting Harvey take most of his weight. 

“Plus I think,” Harvey continues, walking him backwards till Mike’s back hits the wall, “the work you did on the Deposition today was good enough,” Harvey’s hands frame Mike’s hips, working under Mikes shirt, “to earn you a blow job.” 

“You could just admit that you’ve missed me,” Mike replies to cover up the fact his brain cuts out at the words _blow job_ , “I know you sleep better when I’m th...” Harvey kisses him, presses his hands above his head and holds them there as he works Mike’s pants button open. 

Harvey doesn’t answer him, just gets his hand around Mike’s dick and strokes upwards one, squeezing at his wrists hard enough to bruise. 

“Don’t move,” Harvey mutters, and sinks to his knees, pulling Mike’s pants down with him. And Christ Mike wants to move, wants to dig his fingers into Harvey’s hair but he keeps his hands resting on top of his head. Because Harvey told him to. 

Yes he’s well aware of how that sounds thank you. 

“What happens if I do?” He asks and Harvey looks up at him, his brown eyes dark and menacing as his hands still at the waist band of Mike’s boxers. He leans forward and nips at the skin of Mike’s hips. Mike has always been kind of skinny, gangly some might say, but Harvey always seems to gravitate his hands to his hips and now Mike is more than happy to be skinny when Harvey bites down on the skin and his teeth graze over bone. 

“I stop,” Harvey says, pressing his lips to the outline of Mike’s dick through his boxers. Mike has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself thrusting forward and grabbing a handful of Harvey’s hair.

“God I wish you were joking,” he says, his fingers tightening around his own wrist. Harvey tugs his boxers down his thighs, blows cool air across Mike’s dick. 

“You know I’m not,” he says as he wraps his fingers around the base and licks a long stripe up the underside. 

“Jesus,” Mike digs his nails in to the palm of his hand as Harvey, licks across the slit and sucks the tip of his dick into his mouth, fingers reaching backwards and rolling his balls gently against his palm. Harvey sinks down, hums his way down the length of Mike’s dick and Mike has that sick jolt of jealousy that he’s done this before, he’s far too good not to have done it before. He almost wants to find those people, tell them who Harvey’s teaching now. 

God now he’s getting possessive. Harvey must be really rubbing off on him. 

Oh God, _rubbing._

Harvey’s mouth is hot, wet and its honestly the hardest thing he’s ever had to do to keep still, not to drive his hips into Harvey’s mouth, not to wind his fingers into his hair and find out whether its as hard as it looks or if it would be soft under his fingers. He pulls back, slides his tongue up the underside again, pressing hard into the prominent vein and sucks hard around the head. 

Mike’s mind pretty much leaks out his ears at that point. 

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” Harvey hums again and slides a finger backwards, presses gently to Mike’s hole and swallows and Mike can feel himself about to come (yes already), feels the warmth spread through his stomach and he can’t speak, can’t even tug at Harvey to get him off before he comes because he’s not allowed to move. He must get it though, pick up some involuntary twitch in Mike’s muscles, or he hears the low grunt that Mike makes in the back of his throat, because he pulls off and stands, wrapping his fingers around Mike’s dick instead, and dragging Mike forward by the back of his neck to kiss him. 

He tastes of coffee and whiskey, of decadence and Harvey, but underneath there is something almost bitter and it surprises Mike that it’s the taste of himself, and it doesn’t turn him off the way he thought it would, in fact quite the opposite. He whines as Harvey pushes his tongue into his mouth and his fingers twitch with the need to touch him. Harvey’s hand is heavy around the back of his neck, his other stroking almost too gently on his dick, like he drove Mike to the edge now he’s pulling him back and Mike groans in frustration. Harvey pulls back with a laugh. 

“What do you need Mike?” He asks and Mike whines again, twitches his hips desperate for anything other than the almost maddening lack of friction from Harvey’s hand. “Tell me,” Harvey says, twisting his hand. 

“Oh fuck,” Mike says, ever eloquent when it comes to Harvey and the things he does. Harvey kisses him again, whispers “say it” into his mouth and squeezes at the base of Mike's dick, “God…I need to come…please,” Mike whines out, Harvey’s forehead pressed against his own and Harvey twists his hand once and Mike is coming, whimpering into Harvey’s mouth as he does, his hands still resting above his head.

“Well done Rookie,” Harvey is whispering, his mouth hot against Mike’s and he can’t make most of them out over the sound of his own blood roaring in his ears but he picks out a choice few and they make his hips twitch, “good boy…taste...deserved that Mike...I...,” Harvey’s words stop as he smashes their mouths together again and Mike can’t help the hum of pleasure that escapes when he runs his hand down his spine and presses their hips together. Mike goes boneless and its only Harvey’s hand pulling them together that keeps him on his feet. He chuckles as he shifts, hauling Mike up and using his other hand to wrap around Mike’s wrists. He brings them between them, rubbing his fingers over the skin, running down over Mike’s fingers, massaging feeling back into them. His touch trails over Mike’s pulse and Mike winds one arm around Harvey’s neck, he can’t really help himself, its all for self preservation, he doesn’t want to fall on his ass after all. 

Yeah right. 

Mike’s starting to think he may need to write a health warning on the back of Harvey’s suits, “epic blow jobs from this kinky dominating boss may cause nuzzling”, as Mike does exactly that, nuzzles into Harvey’s neck, humming contentedly into the skin and he feels a shiver go through Harvey. And the knowledge that he’s not the only one who’s involuntarily affected by all this makes him smile against Harvey’s neck. 

“Come on puppy, bed,” Harvey shifts him higher in his arms and Mike lets out a laugh. 

“I like it when you call me puppy,” he says, suddenly feeling drunk even though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol. Just another way Harvey affects him. 

He waves his hand in the direction of his tiny bedroom and Harvey walks him backwards.

“You do huh?” He asks and Mike nods, hums and puts his hand out to twist the knob on the door. Harvey kicks it open and drops Mike onto his bed. Mike feels the bed dip and Harvey’s hand runs down his chest. He arches upwards and opens his eyes to find Harvey looking down at him, his lips twisted in an amused smile, but there’s something else going on under the smile, behind his eyes. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, go to sleep Mike,” he says, drops down and kisses Mike deeply, pushing his tongue into Mike’s mouth. 

He’s not really sure if he’ll ever get tired of kissing Harvey. 

Harvey goes to pull away and Mike winds his fingers into his shirt. The look he gets is one of dark amusement and Harvey wraps his own hands around Mike’s and rubs his thumbs over Mike’s wrist. 

“No way in Hell, I am staying _here_ Mike,” he says and Mike does his best impression of a puppy dog, pushing his lower lip out and tugging gently on the hugely expensive shirt, the thought that he might be creasing the material not even crossing his mind. 

“Aww come on...come snuggle,” he says and then wants to punch himself in the face. 

Snuggle? Honestly he really doesn’t know where these things are coming from. He’s going to blame that on the epic blow job from a kinky and dominating boss whilst he’s on the blame train. Might as well. 

Harvey raises an eyebrow and prizes Mike’s fingers out of his shirt, smoothes the material down.

“Snuggle? No. Go to sleep, see you tomorrow,” 

“Night Harvey,” Harvey leans down again and surprises the hell out of Mike by swiping his fingers across his forehead and pressing his lips to Mike’s skin. 

“Night Mike.” 

He hears the door close a few moments later and he shuts his eyes, his skin still humming in post orgasmic bliss and falls asleep with the memory of Harvey’s dark words in his ear.


	3. Chapter 3

Mike is swiftly becoming a fan of the massive glass walls of Harvey’s apartment, after a while of “these are ridiculous”, “who need’s windows this big” and “seriously Harvey, who cleans these?” It’s almost calming to look out over the city whilst working, Harvey’s possessive legs wrapped around his, (yes legs can be possessive, Mike’s slowly learning that everything can be possessive when it comes to Harvey). They’re going through a brief, well Mike’s going through a brief and Harvey is trailing his hand up Mike’s chest, sipping at whiskey, and every now and then Harvey will stop Mike from talking by hooking his fingers under his chin, pulling his head round and kissing him, then gets him to start again by an almost hard squeeze at the base of his dick. 

It’s proving a very effective motivational tool. 

Harvey’s hand is a solid weight against Mike’s chest when he stops it moving, lays it flat against the skin and presses gently, like he’s trying to pull Mike back although Mike’s back is pretty much glued to Harvey’s chest right now and unless Harvey takes the opportunity to actually fuck Mike, he doesn’t think they could get much closer, and he whispers “stop” darkly in Mike’s ear, and Mike stops immediately, going still and quiet and letting his head fall back against Harvey’s chest. 

They’ve been doing _this_ for weeks now. The lessons are pretty much every day (Lessons like “don’t move when I tell you to be still”, “don’t always assume you’ll get what you want”, and Mike’s personal favourite, “I will fuck you when I want to and not a moment before”) and Mike’s never been so fucking tired in his entire life. He’s also never been so turned on most of the time in his entire life either. Seems like he spends most of his time now rearranging his pants to hide a semi hard on. He loves the thrill, the jolt of pleasure down his spine whenever Harvey uses that tone, the way Harvey will pin him down and fuck him senseless till he can’t remember his own name, only to stop and have him beg Harvey to let him come. Harvey is hard and dark and possessive and he gets this look in his eyes when he catches Mike talking to Rachel, and the bruises on his neck are more pronounced the next day. Mike loves it, can’t get enough truth be told (he’s not sure what that says about him). 

But it’s the quiet moments that surprise Mike, the “couply” moments that make him wonder what the hell is going through Harvey’s head, and what the hell they’re doing, and how the hell, if this ends, Mike is going to be able to carry on like nothing’s happened. The times when Harvey runs his hands through Mike’s hair, whispers “mine” into his ear and kisses him gently, or the time when he took Mike home, kissed his forehead and tucked him into bed and left him for two days to sleep off a particularly hard week and a killer headache (Mike had loved the way Harvey reacquainted himself with Mike on the Monday evening, kissing over his skin and hands everywhere, Mike’s name on his lips). The business cards, the breakfasts, the fact that the Concierge knows Mike’s name now, the small seemingly insignificant touches at work that let Mike know exactly what Harvey is thinking. 

It spins him around and if Mike wasn’t as level headed as he is, he might be totally and utterly in love with Harvey by now. 

But he is, so he’s not. 

Anyway, he stopped, was the point, and Harvey takes the brief from his hands, places it on the coffee table and manoeuvres Mike till their face to face and Mike’s hands are pressing into Harvey’s shoulders. 

“That kind of has to gets done by Monday and I’m only a quarter through,” Mike says, and Harvey crooks an eyebrow at him, his fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck and Mike, like the girl that he is, shivers slightly. 

“You’re turning down sex for Louis’s brief?” 

“Well when you put it like that...” Mike replies, leaning down and pressing his lips to Harvey’s. Its like an instant reaction, Harvey’s fingers tighten at the back of Mike’s head, his body rising up against Mike’s and Mike can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough to kissing Harvey and touching him. The whole world spins and Mike finds himself on his back staring up at Harvey, he blinks and Harvey grins down almost dangerously. 

“Lesson number 57, Rookie...” Harvey says and Mike snorts, choking slightly as Harvey grinds his hips down at the same time, an eyebrow raised over one eye. 

“You’re making these numbers up aren’t you?” Mike asks and Harvey winds his fingers into his hair and pulls his head to the side, biting at Mike’s pulse. Mike hisses and arches, wrapping a leg around Harvey.

“Don’t question the teacher,” Harvey bites out in that tone that makes Mike go boneless. 

“Sorry... _Sir_ ,” he replies with a grin and Harvey growls slightly as he leans down and kisses him hard. 

Harvey doesn’t get the chance to impart the lesson.

And somewhere between that growly kiss and the way Harvey practically orders him not to come until he says so, the bites on his neck and the bruises on his hips, Mike gets to thinking that maybe a safe word might be in order soon. Especially now that Harvey keeps fucking him into submission and dragging orgasms out of him like Mike’s a 16 year old boy with a ten second recovery time (when he’s quite clearly not and sometimes all he can do is grunt and shudder in Harvey’s arms, his teeth practically biting through his lip). 

And because Mike’s mind if never quiet unless Harvey is deep inside (which he isn’t right now) it sometimes goes into places he would really rather not be. 

“Urgh,” he gags as something occurs to him and Harvey lifts his head from where he was sucking a bruise onto Mike’s shoulder and glares down at him. 

“You ok?” There is a hint of worry but it’s mostly confusion, probably because Mike has never complained about Harvey’s cannibalistic ways before. Quite the opposite actually, he would wear the bruises with pride if Harvey let him. 

“No,” Mike replies pinching the bridge of his nose and Harvey’s forehead wrinkles as he looks down at him and his muscles tense like he’s about to move. Mike grips at him harder though and tries to reach up and kiss him. 

“What’s the matter?” Harvey asks again, moving slightly out of reach and using that tone that he gets when he wants Mike to talk and that’s not fair, because he knows Mike can’t say no when Harvey uses that tone. Mike sighs. 

“Nothing....,” he tries again only to be rewarded with Harvey snorting and rolling off him, standing up and stretching, and Mike kind of loses his train of thought when confronted with Naked Harvey but Harvey frowns at him, and turns away and the train comes back, “...ok fine, I was just thinking about safe words and that it should be “Louis” cos there’s no way I would ever say his name in bed by accident, then that got me thinking about Louis’s safe word, and why he would need one and now the image of Louis in nothing but a gimp mask is burned onto my retinas...I feel sick,” Mike finishes and looks at Harvey with a grin, expecting...well expecting anything but his blank expression and Harvey’s arms crossed over his chest so his biceps look huge and lickable and Mike really should pay attention. 

“Why would you need a safe word?” Harvey asks carefully and Mike gets the feeling like he’s said something wrong, and its not the wrong “oh I’m getting punished” good wrong, its the “shit I fucked up” wrong wrong. 

“I dunno I just...” 

“Mike,” Harvey’s voice is carefully controlled and he’s just out of Mike’s reach, “if this is too much for you...” Mike stands, wonders how the hell Harvey would ever think Mike thought this was too much, is Harvey not the one that keeps him in check, that stops him from sinking to his knees in the office and pulling Harvey dick into his mouth. Mike is too far in with Harvey now and he’s pretty sure if Harvey asked him to jump from the window right now, he might take a second to think about it, but he’d do it. Because it’s Harvey that asked and Mike is his bitch, remember? 

“No, no, no, I just...” he trails off shrugging and Harvey turns away from him, goes to the kitchen and pulls open the fridge. Mike plasters himself to Harvey’s back, wrapping his arms around and he feels Harvey tense, “I have no idea what I’m doing which is unusual for me,” Harvey unclasps Mike’s hands and turns, “not unheard of but unusual and...” Harvey claps his hand over Mike’s mouth and there is a hint of a so _something_ in his eyes that makes Mike feel suddenly warm, because something is better than the nothing that had been there before. 

“You tell me the second this gets too much, you don’t need a safe word for that, I wont...I wouldn’t...” Mike nods against the hand over his mouth and Harvey slips it down, curls it around the back of Mike’s neck. Mike leans forward and nips at Harvey’s jaw line. It’s Saturday afternoon and they, thank god, didn’t have any work to do apart from Louis’s brief this weekend and Harvey hasn’t shaved, his track pants (apparently he does own clothes other than suits) are hanging low on his waist. There’s a smattering of stubble across his face that makes kissing him even more... _interesting._

“Ok,” he says and Harvey graces him with a brief smile, its tight and slightly forced but his eyes still crease up at the corners and Mike runs his fingers over the skin there. 

“Listen, I think you should maybe go home,” Harvey says suddenly, stepping out of Mike’s grasp and Mike feels cold. 

“What? Why?” He asks desperately, because, yes he is a love sick teenager who’s being sent home and he didn’t mean what he said about safe words like Harvey took it and Mike, for all his intelligence, sometimes says the wrong thing. “Harvey...” 

“You have work to do, and I’ll only distract you,” he replies, grinning slightly in that wolfish way that makes Mike’s knees go weak, but its still forced and his back and shoulders are tense when he turns away.

He may know what Harvey sounds like when he comes, or the noise he makes when Mike swallows him down whole and hums around him. He may know the way his fingers tighten against Mike’s skin when Mike lets go and gives Harvey pretty much everything, he may know how many times Harvey can make him come in one night of interrupted sex (its six by the way), but Mike doesn’t really know him all that well, at all really. He has no idea how Harvey is taking the subject of a safe word, or why he seems to be irritated, hurt even. All he does know is that Harvey’s eyes go dark when Mike submits and he uses that knowledge to his advantage as he wraps his fingers around Harvey’s wrist and sinks to the floor by his feet. 

“Mike...” Harvey says, curling his hand around Mike’s, his eyes going dark and heavy (see? Mike knows things). Mike knows that Harvey needs to know that he trusts him right now. And a few weeks ago if Mike had been asked if he would give up that much of himself to anyone, he would have told them to take a long walk off a short pier, but its Harvey, Harvey who’s looking at him right now like he’s hurt, Harvey who needs Mike to take care of him right now. Even if that means playing with the power balance between them (not that Harvey’s in power…obviously). 

“Harvey...please,” Mike’s not sure what he’s asking for, but Harvey gives it to him anyway, cups his hand around his face, pulls slightly as he bends down and kisses him hard. The angle is awkward, Harvey’s nearly bent double and Mike is stretched up on his knees but Harvey pushes his tongue into Mike’s mouth and Mike whimpers (God he’s never going to get used to whimpering), his fingers curling around Harvey’s wrists. 

“Do you trust me Mike?” Harvey asks quietly, speaking right against Mike’s lips and Mike nods, lets out a small noise that could be a yes, could be another whimper and Harvey presses his fingers in behind Mike’s ears. “You trust me at work?” Harvey asks and Mike nods the best he can, “do you trust me here?” 

“Yes,” Mike manages to say, breathe, gasp, whatever, and Harvey stands up straight, pushes his pants down his thighs. His fingers curl around his dick and he strokes once, palming over the tip and running his hand back down and Mike’s mouth waters, his eyes transfixed. Harvey is half hard already and Mike has the usual thrill of pleasure at the thought that he did that, he turned Harvey on. Harvey presses a thumb under his chin and lifts Mike’s gaze, running his thumb over Mike’s lips. Then his hand is curling around the back of Mike’s neck and pulling him forward and Mike has just enough time to brace his own hands on Harvey’s thighs as he opens his mouth and sucks the tip of Harvey’s dick into his mouth. Harvey’s hand tightens and Mike slides down, his tongue curling around the hard flesh as Harvey lets out a muttered “Jesus” and pushes his hips forward. 

Its probably going to take Mike a while to get used to the fact that he likes sucking dick, well Harvey’s specifically, because he never got much thrill out of it before. Before it had always been perfunctory, a means to an end, more often than not he was wasted, high on drugs and horny as hell and Trevor had been stronger. But Harvey grips his hair tightly like he cant help it, then strokes his head with his strong fingers, makes noises in the back of his throat and Mike finds himself getting hard from just that. And the fact that he’s on his knees for Harvey Specter (yes, he is beginning to worry about himself). His pants are tight, his dick straining, almost uncomfortably so and he shifts to push his hand into the waist band and Harvey grips both hands in his hair and tugs gently. Mike pulls off his dick with a pop that has Harvey’s eyes fluttering but then the hard look is in his eyes and he flicks his gaze down to Mike’s hand where its struggling with the button one handed. 

“No,” he growls, and Mike immediately drops his hands. “”Keep your hands on me, Mike,” Harvey says and Mike wraps his hands around Harvey’s hips, drawing back up onto his knees. Harvey runs a hand across his face, curls his fingers into Mike’s hair and stares down at him, “good boy.” 

Back when this first all started, when Harvey first purred “good boy” at him, darkly against his ear, Mike could have blamed his absolute hero worship on the guy for his gut wrenching reaction, for the fact that his dick twitched and he wanted nothing more that to make those words come out of Harvey’s mouth again and again, no matter what it took. Now though, he has to admit that its more than that, its Harvey that needs this and Mike is more than willing to give it to him. 

He’s not sure what that says about him, and to be honest he doesn’t really care. 

Harvey’ slides his thumb into Mike’s mouth next to his dick and Mike hums, swallows, breathes in deep and presses his nose to Harvey’s stomach. Harvey curses, tightens his grip in Mike’s hair to this side of painful and Mike can feel a tear squeeze out of his eye and roll down his cheek. Harvey catches it with his other thumb, smears across his cheek. Its almost in a loving way and Mike closes his eyes, can’t look at Harvey anymore because if he does he’s probably going to pull off his dick and start spouting poetry or something because this is the single most intense moment of his life and he has Harvey to thank for that. 

He ignores the way Harvey’s hands tug at his hair, trying to pull him off, the way his muscles bunch under Mike’s hand and he just keeps going, because Harvey needs this as much as he does. Mike curls his fingers around Harvey’s hips, digs them in hard enough that he knows there’ll be bruises tomorrow and hums, swallows, and Harvey grunts, pushes his hips into the back of Mike’s mouth and comes hot down Mike’s throat. Mike swallows everything, which he never used to do, another testament to the way Harvey has affected his life so far, and pulls off, his pants achingly hard around his own dick. Harvey groans, hauls him to his feet and Mike whimpers again. God he’s really got to stop doing that because its kind of pathetic, and Harvey kisses him hard, pushes him back against the kitchen counter and rocks his hips into his. Mike groans this time, a much more manly sound and Harvey pulls away, mutters “god Mike” against his mouth and curls his hands under his arms, lifts him up onto the counter, “taste like…fuck, the things you do to me.” 

If Mike wasn’t painfully hard right now, he would take offence at the way Harvey had lifted him like he weighed nothing. But to be honest, he doesn’t really care, not when Harvey gets a hand into Mike’s pants and curls his strong, elegant fingers around his dick. Mike drags his mouth away, pulls Harvey closer till he can practically feel his heartbeat through his chest and presses his lips to Harvey’s neck. 

“Come on rookie, come for me,” Harvey mutters, his tongue flicking out against the shell of Mike’s ear and Mike gets a suddenly flash of panic that this is going to be over before he’s had Harvey’s dick inside him. 

“No, stop,” Mike gasps and Harvey freezes, pulls away instantly and there’s that look on his face again, the worry, the slight hurt and Mike winds his fingers into the front of his shirt and pulls him close, breathes against his mouth. “Fuck me…please,” he says and Harvey seems to relax. Mike likes to think it’s the _please_ that gets him what he wants, the way he can make it pleading rather than demanding or whining and Harvey hauls him close, worms his hands under Mike’s ass and lifts him off the counter. Mike wraps his legs around his waist, and yes, you guessed it, would be offended at being carried like a girl but he’s hard remember? Painfully so, and Harvey’s going to fuck him and he never thought he’d be the wanton type but apparently Harvey brings all sort of things out of him. 

Including the pathetic whimpering poet. 

Harvey manages to drag two orgasms out of Mike, one when he’s buried deep inside and Harvey’s hand is around his dick, and the other with Harvey’s mouth on his dick and his fingers in his ass. 

Mike is utterly boneless, useless, his mind blissfully quiet for once as Harvey pulls him close and shifts, getting comfortable, his hand trailing featherlight touches up Mike’s spine and Mike wriggles, because it tickles, nothing to do with wanting to feel his skin slide against Harvey’s. 

“You ok, Rookie?” Harvey asks, his voice quiet, scraping against his dry throat and Mike lifts his head enough to look up at him. 

“Yeah, very ok, although I think you broke me this time,” he says as he stretches and feels his muscles burn, the odd ache where only Harvey makes him ache, the dull throb on his neck where a particularly hard bite was placed. Harvey snorts and closes his eyes and Mike takes the opportunity to look at him. There are still a few frown lines on his forehead, and odd tension in his features and Mike doesn’t quite know how to get rid of. “What?” Harvey asks without opening his eyes and Mike actually blushes, looks away like Harvey caught him staring even though the only way Harvey knew he was still looking was the fact Mike hadn’t moved. 

“I was looking out the window,” Mike tries and Harvey opens one eye, raises an eyebrow over it and Mike frowns, shifts, sits and crosses his legs under him. Harvey opens the other eye, crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Thing is,” Mike starts and Harvey shifts. Mike puts his hand out and presses his fingers into his thigh, kneads his fingers into the muscle and Harvey stills. “Thing is Harvey, I…I’ve never been in uh…” 

“Mike,” Harvey pushes gently and Mike runs a hand through his hair. 

“Ok, I’ve never been in control of my life, you say I am but I’m not. I wasn’t. I am now and I have you to thank for that,” emotion flickers across Harvey’s face too quick for Mike to pick up on the meaning but he shifts again, sits up and crosses his legs as well, pressing his elbows into his knees and slotting his fingers together under his chin, like he’s waiting for Mike to get to the point. “But the point is, I’ve never been the one in control…here,” he makes a sweeping gesture and hopes that Harvey gets what he’s trying to say. Harvey’s eyes narrow slightly, walls coming up again and Mike hurries his words, “no what I mean is…fuck, I’m making a mess of this. Trevor took that from me and you gave it back and I don’t…I can’t…” whatever words are running through Mike’s head, the jumble of emotions and (he’s blaming it on two outstanding orgasms) sappy crap is about to come out of his mouth, Harvey stops it with his, presses their lips together and pushes Mike down, crawling over him and laying himself down, his weight comforting. 

“I get it, Rookie,” he says and the frown lines are gone from his forehead, even if the mention of Trevor has given his eyes a dark look. 

“You do? Cos I’m not sure I do,” Mike says and Harvey laughs, digs his fingers into Mike’s hair, and kisses him again. 

“I get it.”

.....

It should come as a surprise to him really, but it doesn’t. Mike’s always prided himself on being a good person who trusts and loves easily (some might say too easily, Trevor being the prime example) and it hits him one day, as Harvey squeezes at the back of his neck whilst Mike is trying to read out the imperfections from a draft contract, that he loves the way he does that, he loves kiss Harvey and loves the way Harvey whispers darkly against his ear, the way he holds him down and fucks him hard. He loves Harvey. 

He’s fucking _in love_ with Harvey. 

And it should freeze him to the core, should rattle his cages and whatever other analogy you want to think of because hello, in love with very male boss here, but it doesn’t. Just a cool sense of calm washes over him as Harvey’s fingers slip between his skin and his collar and Mike looks up at him. 

“Did I tell you to stop reading?” Harvey asks and Mike stands, places the file on Harvey’s desk and wraps his fingers around his tie and drags him in for a kiss. 

Harvey lets out a startled noise in the back of his throat but his hands automatically frame Mike’s face as he kisses him back. 

“What did I say about not in work?” Harvey mutters, fingers stroking at the back of Mike’s head and they’re taking a huge risk here, anyone could walk past and see them wrapped around each other but Mike can’t bring himself to pull away, especially not when Harvey hums contentedly, presses his fingers into a bruise on the back of Mike’s neck and kisses him again. 

“You broke that rule first Harvey,” he replies and Harvey hums again, a sound of consent, admitting that yes ok this is his fault and he’s more than happy to take the blame as long as Mike keeps kissing him. 

“God...you...” Harvey says under his breath but then pulls Mike back, kisses him hard and lets him go. Mike feels more than a little shaken, his knees wobbling and his heart racing and Harvey swipes his thumb over his bottom lip and Mike just about loses it and comes right there. But Harvey lets him go completely, and Mike nearly falls. “Right, draft contract, lets go,” he says, his voice a little shaky and Mike drops himself back into the chair. Harvey pets at his hair and hands him the contract, “continue.”

.....

The thing about Mike’s mind is that once a thought is in there, it wont go away, eidetic memory has its perks, but its mostly just a jumble of thoughts and memories and a lot of them he would rather forget. 

Like the fact that he’s in love with Harvey. 

Its beginning to affect his work as he starts acting like a love sick teenager, all hearts in his eyes and such and Harvey keeps giving him weird looks, asking if he’s ok and even Rachel’s noticed, frowning at him in that way that makes him shift guiltily. But anyway, he keeps looking longingly at Harvey like staring at him is going to make the knowledge that he’s in love with him magically go away. Or make Harvey admit it first. 

Ok yes, Mike is going to admit that in his most pathetic moments he kind of wishes Harvey felt the same, that they would fuck like rabbits for the rest of their lives, maybe adopt two kids and Mike would stop work and Harvey would keep them in the life they were accustomed to. 

Yeah. Right. 

But really, he finds himself wishing that Harvey would say something other than the odd bitten off “Mike...you...” (Mike has no idea what he means by that), or do something other than look at him sometimes like there is something else other than sex between them. Its kind of driving Mike crazy, the whole “what the hell are we doing here” question keeps running around his head and he wants to ask, but that would make him pathetic right? And Mike’s not pathetic; poetry spouting and being in love with Harvey aside, of course. 

They’ve had a tough week and Mike has spent most of it biting his tongue, trying not to let it slip, and ignoring the bone weariness that hums in the back of his head like he’s brewing a migraine. Harvey seems stressed, snapping more, his “lessons” are harsher, leaving Mike shaking and not for the first time, wondering what it says about him that he loves every second of it. 

They’re out with clients tonight, schmoozing, entertaining, and Mike can feel Harvey’s gaze on him, heavy across the bar and he looks up, catches the dark glint in them before Harvey looks away and Mike swallows around the lump that forms in his throat. The ever present sexual tension between them, due to their huge workload this week, has kicked up a notch and if Mike wasn’t so tired he would he hauling Harvey’s ass into the nearest bathroom stall and sucking his dick like his life depends on it. 

When the clients at least leave, and Harvey foots the stupidly high bill (who knew whiskey could be that expensive?), his hand is warm against Mike’s lower back as he pushes him gently through the bar, out onto the street and into the waiting car. 

Harvey’s dropping him off, because he, apparently, doesn’t want Mike cycling through Thursday evening traffic fucking exhausted with two whiskeys running through his blood stream. (If Mike wasn’t so tired he would be pleased at the concern in Harvey’s voice when he says it.) And they also haven’t quite reached the stage where they just sleep together and neither of them have the energy tonight to do anything other than curl up under their covers and pass out for a few hours before they do it all again tomorrow. Mike feels the words rise up in the back of his throat, and he can’t stop them from falling no matter how much he wants to as they pull up outside his crappy apartment building.

Harvey’s hand slips across his thigh in a way of a farewell and Mike stops, his hand on the door handle. 

“I love you.” 

Harvey freezes, Mike freezes, hell even Ray freezes in the drivers seat and everything zeroes in on the slightly frightened yet irritatingly impassive face of Harvey and Mike wants the world to open up and swallow him whole. 

“Get some sleep Mike,” he says, even his voice impassive now. 

“Harv...”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Mike nods, obliviously he’s not going to get anything out of Harvey tonight, and slips out of the door. The car is moving pretty much before he has a chance to slam it shut, and Mike is left standing on the sidewalk with a hollow feeling in his chest and worry gnawing in his belly. 

Well, he’s well and truly fucked things up now, hasn’t he?


	4. Chapter 4

Mike gets drunk. And not just the “oh wow I need to stop drinking now otherwise I’ll feel like shit tomorrow” drunk. No, he gets the utterly shit faced, fall on your ass trying to get your shoes off fucking drunk, the kind of drunk that makes his mind quiet for once. Like that will make him forget he told Harvey he loved him, or make him forget the way Harvey’s face had frozen like he was terrified and pissed all at the same time. Honestly he really should have expected that kind of reaction, either that or a punch in the face because what had Harvey ever done to show him he felt anything more than sex when it came to Mike? 

So he gets drunk, slings his bag into the corner of his living room and finds every single drop of alcohol hiding in various cupboards all over the apartment, including some Vodka of dubious quality (not the Grey Goose that Harvey no doubt drinks), some rum that looks like Jack Sparrow should have drunk it a million years ago and the stupid red wine that Jenny likes. He downs them all, feels his mind go numb as he berates himself whilst pacing his apartment like a crazy person. And he’s got to be a little crazy right? He told Harvey he loved him after all and no sane person would do that. No sane person who liked their heart in one piece inside their chest cavity would do that. 

“Stupid...” he mutters to himself, tripping over his shoes, and they are stupid shoes, big and far too smart for him and...

Oh wait, _he’s_ stupid. 

“Idiot,” he growls as he slumps down onto the couch and the room spins. He shuts his eyes and presses his fingers to them.

He’s the kind of drunk where he thinks it’s a really _really_ good idea to pull his phone out of his pocket and spent three minutes typing in the password, a good idea to stare at his phone for another five minutes, the screen swimming in front of his eyes, Harvey’s number taunting him. The kind of drunk where pressing the call button is the best idea in the world because he’s drunk remember? And he misses Harvey, and he fucked up and he needs to tell him that. 

“What’s wrong?” Harvey sounds wide awake, and even in Mike’s inebriated state he knows that’s probably true, because Harvey doesn’t sleep when there’s something on his mind, unless it’s a lie and he was asleep because he doesn’t really care that Mike blurted out a confession, because Harvey can slip from stone cold passed out asleep to wide awake in under a second and isn’t alcohol meant to make your brain quiet? 

“Were you asleep?” Mike asks because he has to know, like has to and Harvey sighs down the phone, there’s a rustle of sheets against skin and Mike has an image of Harvey’s tanned skin stark against the white Egyptian cotton, “the Captain told me to call you,” he says staring at the bottle of Rum on the coffee table, Captain Morgan winks at him and yeah, he’s probably had enough right now. 

“Tell me you’re drunk, not high,” Harvey says and he sounds angry and Mike sticks his bottom lip out like Harvey can see, because his pouting usually gets a nibble on his lower lip and then a tongue in his mouth and whatever the hell he wants. 

“Drunk,” he says and Harvey sighs again and Mike can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in the way he does when he’s irritated with Louis, “aaaand horny...hey Harvey?” Mike asks and lapses into silence, waiting for Harvey to answer him because that’s how conversations go right? Harvey sighs again. 

“Yes Mike.” 

“Remember that time I wore nothing but your tie and you fucked me over the counter in the bathroom and made me look in the mirror at you the whole time?” Mike asks and he hears Harvey’s breath hitch, and heat pools in his belly and if he hadn’t drunk enough to down a fucking elephant he would probably be hard right now. 

“Mike...Go to sleep,” there’s a finality in his tone that makes Mike feel cold all of a sudden, a cold sweat prickling over his forehead, although that might be the alcohol sweating out through his pores rather than the fact that it feels like Harvey is saying goodbye. 

“No wait...” he practically shouts and he hears Harvey’s breath stop, “I have to tell you something,” Mike protests and he can almost see Harvey rolling his eyes at him, except that he knows that Harvey is probably just looking impassively straight ahead, hand gripped around the phone.

“What?” God, Harvey sounds so long suffering right now that Mike wants to cry...ok maybe not cry, maybe vomit, or punch him in his annoyingly perfect face. 

“I love you.”

“You told me that already,” Mike shakes his head, like Harvey can see him because even though this may ruin things and may make Harvey decide to give him over to Louis, permanently, he needs to explain and explain better than he did in the car, because honestly is always the best policy right? 

“No like _really_ love you, not like ‘omg Harvey you’re like the best boss ever’ love, but...” he pauses to hiccough, “the other kind, you know?” 

“Yeah Mike I know,” Mike feels his stomach churn and his mouth starts watering. 

“Do you though?” he asks, closing his eyes and trying to stop the room from spinning, because he wonders if Harvey doesn’t quiet get it, because surely if he got it, he would be happy, he would be over here right now fucking Mike into the mattress. Surely. Mike giggles, “don’t call me Shirley,” he mutters and Harvey sighs again. 

“I’m hanging up now Mike,” and he does and Mike is left staring at the screen like that is somehow going to magically make everything better. 

Everything except the vomit that’s forcing its way to the surface.

.....

In the entire histories of hangovers, this one is probably about as evil as say...Hitler, Stalin, maybe even Satan himself, because not only does his head feel like its been run over by a steamroller and pumped back up till its about to explode, and his intestines have decided to take offence with one another and are currently trying to strangle each other, but in the back of his pounding head, there’s that taunting voice singing “you did something stupid last night.” You know the one that wont go away, that laughs and runs away whenever you try to remember what the stupid thing is?

Probably doesn’t help that he wakes wrapped around the toilet with his alarm clock buzzing loudly somewhere in the living room. Or that could be his phone. 

Shit, its his phone. 

Shit, its Harvey. 

_Shit_ , he told Harvey he love him last night. 

“Um…Harvey,” Mike grips at the phone and is expecting “what the fuck is wrong with you?” or a “I love you too Mike”, (although he’s not really expecting _that_ ) something other than what he gets. 

“I don’t care how drunk you got last night, you get your skinny ass in here, the shits hitting the fan,” Harvey hangs up before Mike can process his words, or even the fact that he‘s answered his phone. He manages to drag himself into the shower and dress himself in something suitable that Harvey probably wont take offence to (a difficult task in his current state), and all without vomiting. He’s kind of pleased with himself as he hails a cab (because there’s no way he’s cycling this morning) and arrives at work only a little green around the edges. He’s greeted by a scowling, cross-armed, Donna. 

“What did you do?” She demands and Mike blinks. And blinks again. Donna sighs. 

“I...didn’t do anything,” he replies and Donna raises an eyebrow. There’s a fierce protectiveness in her stance, in her gaze, and Mike is reminded that Donna loves Harvey. In a different way to Mike (he hopes otherwise wouldn’t that just be the most awkward thing ever?) obviously, but she loves him, is the point, and she _knows_ that Mike has done something to upset the balance that has settled between him and Harvey. Mike sighs, swallows down the nausea that’s making his stomach turn, although that could be nerves. 

“You know I’ll find out,” she says. 

“Ok fine...I may have...” 

“Mike. Get in here,” Mike heaves a sigh of relief as Harvey yells at him and Donna points a finger at him in a threat that says “later” and shoos him (although he wonders why he’s relieved when he takes a look at Harvey’s face). Mike swallows again, because confessed his love for his boss, got drunk, and then did it again last night, and he’s kind of expecting a punch in the face when he walks into Harvey’s office. Donna pushes at his shoulders and Mike takes the three steps across the hallway like a dead man walking. 

“Harvey about...” 

“We have a problem,” Harvey interrupts, thrusting a file into Mike’s hand. 

“Apparently we’ve got more than one,” Mike mutters opening the folder and Harvey glares at him. There’s something unreadable under his dark expression though and the circles under his eyes are telling Mike that he got about as much sleep as Mike did. He looks tired and pissed and, God, Harvey may be good at reading people but Mike kind of sucks at it and he can’t for the life of him figure out what’s going on under those dark eyes. But its glaringly obvious that Harvey wants to ignore last night. 

“Right now, Mike, we’ve got one,” Harvey says, stressing his words, the under lying “not now Mike” coming through loud and clear and Mike nods as Harvey turns, stares out of the window and hooks his hand around his neck, massaging at the muscles and Mike wants to plaster himself to Harvey’s back and do it for him. 

But he doesn’t. Just pushes down the anger he feels at the total lack of acknowledgement of his drunken declaration and looks down at the pages in front of him. 

“Fine. So what’s the problem?”

.....

Turns out “the shit’s hitting the fan” is a little dramatic, which in itself is weird because Harvey isn’t dramatic. Its more...up shit creek, this time _with_ a paddle but the paddle is in the shit and Mike has to wade through it to find said paddle (which is actually a loophole needed to get a client out of some potentially deep shit). 

Anyway, Mike is the king of loopholes, as he has declared himself more than once, and he surrounds himself in books and briefs and contracts, piles of paper either side of him, with the sole purpose of finding the elusive loophole. Harvey ignores him most of the day apart from to bring him more files, and even then it’s with a strictly profession air (that has Mike thinking they may have stepped back in time and only he remembers what could be between them). Except once, when Harvey forgets himself and slides his fingers across the back Mike’s neck. Mike freezes and Harvey snatches his hand away and there’s that look on his face again, the Mike can’t figure out and its driving him nuts. 

“Found anything yet?” Harvey snaps, shoving his hand into his pocket. Mike shakes his head and looks back down at the files. When he looks up Harvey is gone. He sighs heavily, scrubs at his face and resists the urge to slam his head against the table. 

“You know I don’t date from the office?” Mike glances up at Rachel as she pulls his earbud out of his ear, she’s practically dwarfed by the piles of text books and papers Mike has surrounded himself with and he raises as eyebrow at her and then looks back at the pages in front of him. 

“Yeah,” he asks, highlighting a clause in the contract that catches his gaze. He doesn’t really have time for Rachel, for her infuriating knowledge and her smug smile. He’s too wound up thinking about Harvey, about the terrified look in his eyes that flickered for a second before the impassive mask slid back into place. The back of his neck still tingles where he touched him and Mike rubs at it absently. 

“Well I’m starting to rethink my stance,” Rachel says, butting a pile of books out of the way with her hip and perching on the edge of the table. Mike swallows, this is the last thing he needs. Two months ago he would have jumped at the chance. But that was before Harvey has used that dark tone of his in the bedroom, before Harvey had permanently ruined Mike for any other relationship Mike may or may not be contemplating having. Ever again. 

“Rachel um…I’m...uh...kinda seeing someone…well I was…now…” Mike shifts, tugs at his collar and rethinks loosening his tie, there are still fading bruises on his neck, a particularly dark bite mark at the base of his throat. Rachel blushes, tucks her hair behind her ear and stands up. 

“Oh that’s…um...I wasn’t…suggesting you and me, Mike,” she bites at her bottom lip and tugs at her shirt and Mike feels himself blush. Because she looks honest, and if Mike’s picked one thing up for Harvey (apart from a severely kinky attitude towards sex) it’s the ability to read people, and Rachel doesn’t have the look of someone trying to get out of something right now. 

“Oh wow that’s embarrassing, sorry,” he says, flicking the cap of the highlighter off the end of the pen with his thumb. It bounces on the table and falls to the floor and Rachel crouches to pick it up, hands it over with a small smile, “so want to tell me who the guy is?” he asks and Rachel wrinkles her nose, shakes her head. 

“Hhmmm…not yet. But I will. Wait…you’re seeing someone?” she asks, perching on the edge of the table again and crossing her legs, staring at him with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

“I’ll have you know I’m a catch,” Mike says, shrugging his shoulders and Rachel laughs and pats his shoulder. 

“Sure you are. You said “well I was”, what happened?” She asks and Mike curses her ability to pick up small words like that, ok so it was three words and really a baby would have been able to pick that up, but still. His head pounds behind his eyes. 

“Nothing, it’s fine,” he smiles and Rachel stares at him, her eyes searching his face. She gives up a moment later and slides off the table. 

“Alright,” she says, and there’s a hint of uncertainty in there, like she doesn’t quite believe him but she’ll wait for him to come to her about it and Mike wants to hug her. Well he wants to fall asleep under the desk to be honest, curl up in a ball and cry himself to a blissful sleep, that’s if he cried, which he doesn’t, ever. “Hey, are you ok?” she asks as Mike runs a hand over his face again and sighs. He jumps slightly because he thought she had gone, but her face is in his sights again, worried this time. 

“…It’s Harvey,” he says and has no idea why. Why on earth would he tell Rachel? But he’s fucked up, he’s hurting, his skin still remembers Harvey touch and he misses it. 

God Mike, he thinks, pull yourself together, its been one night. 

“What’s he done now?” she asks, crossing her arms and looking distinctly like an attack dog about to launch itself at someone’s jugular. Maybe more like an attack puppy. 

_come on puppy_

“No…it’s _Harvey_ ,” he reiterates, rubbing at the back of his neck again, and if he wasn’t so hungover and pissed at himself he would laugh at the mixture of emotions that flitter across Rachel’s face. Confusion, understanding, shock, amusement.

“…Oh...kay...” she replies finally and Mike feels a slight weight lift at her acknowledgement. 

“And I think I fucked up Rachel,” he says because he’s started now, he told her that he’s “kinda seeing” Harvey, he might as well tell her he fucked up too. 

“What did you do?” she asks perching her hip against the table again and crossing her arms. 

“Why does everyone assume its me?” Mike leans back in his chair and scowls and Rachel holds her hands up in mock defence. 

“Hey, you just said you fucked up,” she replies. 

“Ok, valid point, well made...I...shit...I told him…” its harder than it was last night, to say those three words. Last night, looking at Harvey across the space between them in the back of the car, the streetlights colouring his face and his fingers gently playing against Mike’s wrist, it was easy to say it, the words slid out on their own volition. But now, with Rachel looking at him almost eagerly like they’re about to braid each others hair and stay up all night talking, its harder to say them, even though you’d think it would be easier to say them to Rachel than to Harvey himself. Mike takes a deep breath and Rachel places her hand on his knee and looks at him encouragingly. “I told him I loved him.” 

“Wait there…” she points at him and runs out of the door and Mike has a moment of horror where he thinks she’s going to announce it over the PA system. “Attention all staff. Mike Ross is Harvey Specter’s bitch and he fucked it up last night by confessing his undying love,” and he’s literally about to get up and follow her when she reappears in the doorway with two cups of coffee, one she shoves into his hands and presses him back down into his chair. She pulls another up to the other side of the table and pushes the books aside to look at him better, “start at the beginning,” she says. 

And he does. 

He tells her everything, the way Harvey had started this with the odd placed word, the lingering touches, the way Harvey makes him feel and the way he’d rewarded Mike for the new client (she screwed up her face at that “too much information Mike”), the blurted out confession, the drunken follow up, the fact that Harvey is now ignoring him apart from to bark orders and throw files in his direction and she listens, her face impassive (apart from the screwing up mentioned earlier) and nods in all the right places. 

“Sounds to me like you didn’t fuck up Mike,” she says once he’s finished. 

“What’d’you mean? Course I fucked up. He wont talk to me Rach and I…” 

“Hey…you didn’t fuck up. You told him the truth. He’s the one that’s fucked up if he can’t see how great you are. And what a blessing being loved is,” she says and Mike screws up his face and mimics vomiting. Rachel laughs and smacks his arm. “Shut up, you know what I mean,” she says, “do you need help with this?” she sweeps her arm over the table, “because then you can march your skinny butt in there and tell him that he’s the one that fucked up and he needs to sort his life out,” she grins at him over the rim of her coffee mug and Mike makes a mental note to use Rachel more often for relationship advice. 

“My butt is gorgeous thank you, not skinny,” he replies with a raise of his eyebrow. Rachel nods, her face the picture of mock seriousness.

“Did Harvey tell you that?” she asks, dodging the ball of paper Mike throws at her across the table. She laughs and stands, straightening out her shirt again and grabs her mug. “So I take it you don’t need help, skinny butt,” she says. 

“No thanks, I am the King of Loopholes remember?” he replies and Rachel surprises him by leaning down and kissing his cheek. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s letting go Mike,” she says, whispers into his ear before she stands up, grins at him and sweeps out of the door in a flurry of immaculate hair and impossibly high heels. 

When he thinks about it she’s got a point. Harvey has no right to ignore Mike for telling the truth. Its not like he told him Santa doesn’t exist. He told him he loved him and God he really does. And now, the more he thinks about it and the ignorance from Harvey, the less mopey and hungover he becomes, and the angrier he gets. Mike was perfectly happy ignoring the attraction he felt for his boss, admiring him from afar, but it was Harvey that changed the game, Harvey that muttered “good boy” at him in that tone that makes Mike want to sink to the floor and give Harvey everything. So technically, its Harvey’s fault, Harvey made Mike fall in love with him and now Harvey is backing out. 

Fucking coward. 

Mike screws up a piece of paper and hurls it across the room, feeling only a tiny bit better at the outburst. He needs to find this loophole and shove it up Harvey ass.

.....

“Tell me you found something,” Harvey says without looking up as Mike walks into his office. Donna had patted his hand like she knew something and ushered Mike into the office, shutting the door behind him and Mike tried to ignore the fact it felt like he was being shut in a cage with a hungry lion. 

“Course I found something,” he says, holding the file against his chest. Harvey looks up at that, his face impassive and unreadable and Mike sighs, a little of the hurt coming back in and pushing out the anger. “Harvey...I...” 

“What did you find?” Harvey asks, standing up and holding his hand out for the file. 

“So is this how we’re going to play it?” Mike snaps and Harvey doesn’t even flinch, crosses his arms over his chest and stares back at Mike like its an ordinary day and he didn’t basically stomp all over Mike’s heart. 

“Play what?” 

“You know damn well what, God Harvey, its not like I killed your puppy, I told you I love you,” there’s a twitch in Harvey’s jaw, a quick tightening that Mike notices before Harvey schools his features, “most people like that sort of thing,” Mike finishes, almost lamely, his voice going quiet and god why can’t Mike be an adult when it comes to Harvey? Why does he have to be a twelve year old girl? 

“Mike…” Harvey starts, and he sounds tired but there’s still fear lurking under his gaze and Mike sees red, anger suddenly pulsing through his veins. 

“What are you so afraid off?” he snaps taking a step towards him, Harvey flinches slightly, a blink and you’ll miss it twitch, but Mike sees it, locks it away for further use. 

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Harvey scoffs and Mike scoffs back.

“Whatever dude, here’s your fucking loophole, I hope you and it are very happy together and _live long and prosper,_ ” he snaps and slams the folder down on the desk. He has a sudden memory of Harvey pressing him down into it, the glass cool against his cheek and the metal cold, biting into his stomach as Harvey fucks him hard, whispering in his ear about people seeing them. 

“Shut up,” Harvey snaps, his fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose and he looks tired. Mike wonders how he slept last night, wonders about whether Harvey tossed and turned or just lay awake staring at the ceiling, or paced his million dollar apartment with a whiskey in his hand. 

But then he remembers that he doesn’t care, he’s pissed at Harvey. Pissed at the way he made him feel then yanked it away at the last second, pissed at the fact that he’s now looking at Mike like Mike’s his associate, rather than whatever he was yesterday. And even before yesterday, when they were at work and trying to ignore the need to touch, there would always be something behind Harvey’s eyes when he looked at Mike. Its gone now.

“No you shut up,” he replies and ignores the almost amused look from Harvey. “You’re the one that started this Harvey, and how about you grow a fucking pair and have the guts to follow this through,” Harvey narrows his eyes, places his hands on the desk and leans forward. 

“I never promised you anything kid, you know that,” there’s a hint of reproach in his voice, like he’s trying to teach Mike a lesson, only this one doesn’t have the added bonus of touching and kissing. 

Jesus Mike wants to kiss Harvey right now. 

“Yeah I do,” he replies, clenching his hands by his side to stop himself reaching across the desk, winding his hand around that stupid tie (Harvey knows he hates it, he probably wore it on purpose this morning) and kissing him hard, “but I’m not asking for anything except some fucking honesty Harvey...I thought...” he trails off and Harvey raises an eyebrow. 

“Thought what Puppy?” Mike shivers and really one word shouldn’t be so evocative, “that we’d fall in love and live happily ever after? I don’t work like that. I told you before Rookie, you don’t like where this is headed all you gotta do is tap out,” he says and suddenly Mike knows what he has to do, for himself, for Harvey. Even if it doesn’t make Harvey face up to this and grow a pair. 

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Mike reaches forward and taps twice on the desk, his hand leaving a smudge against the glass, “I hope you’re happy,” Harvey doesn’t say anything, just stares at him and if Mike wasn’t so angry, so hurt, he would notice the way Harvey’s jaw twitches and his knuckles go white around the edge of the desk. 

He resists the urge to slam the glass door as he stomps out, past Donna who raises an eyebrow and pauses in her typing and he hears Harvey yell for her. Mike spares her a brief look and he can see sympathy and understanding in her eyes and not for the first time, he wonders if there has ever been anything between them. He grabs his messenger bag from his desk and stomps out of the office, ignoring Rachel as she tries to stop him.

.....

He does the only thing he knows how to do when he has a situation that’s bothering him, that’s spinning him round inside and he can’t figure it out. He gets high. And it feels so good, the numbing of his mind, the slight buzz in his brain, like the radio’s been turned down but you can still hear a faint noise. He doesn’t think about anything, just sits in his apartment and smokes, watches the way it curls over his head and slides along the ceiling. It’s stupid, in the back of his mind he knows its possibly the worst thing he can do, but Harvey’s face is in the front of his mind, the way he looked when Mike had tapped against the desk, a mixture of nothing and nothing and Harvey’s almost smug eyes looking back at him. And why the fuck would he be smug anyway, unless this is what he wanted the whole time, unless this was Harvey’s way of giving Mike the control to end it. 

He takes another drag of the joint in his fingers, feels the burn in his chest and lets his head fall back against the top of the couch. He’s expecting a call from the office, Donna telling him Harvey expects his ass back in work in half an hour, or Jessica telling him he’s fired for walking out, but his phone is tauntingly quiet and Mike briefly wonders if Donna’s covering for him. Or Rachel. Or maybe even Harvey. 

Stupid fucking Harvey Specter. 

What he’s not expecting is the knock on his door and Harvey’s face in the peephole. His stomach does the automatic “oh my God Harvey’s here” flip that it usually does whenever Harvey’s in the vicinity, but his mind reminds him that he’s pissed. He leans his forehead against the door, the wood hard against his spinning head. 

“I tapped out Harvey, what are you doing here?” he says through the door and he hears Harvey sigh, a faint noise that may or may not be Harvey placing his hand against the wood. 

“Maybe I’m not ready to let you tap out,” he replies and Mike lifts his head, looks through the peephole and Harvey shifts on his feet. Mike wants nothing more than to let him in, let Harvey kiss him and bring him off with his hands and dark words in his ear. But the drugs are buzzing through his system and he knows his eyes must be ringed in red right now and Harvey will see the truth in a New York minute. 

“Now isn’t a good time,” he says and Harvey sighs again. 

“Mike...open the door,” His voice is low, dangerous, the tone that Harvey uses in the bedroom and that’s not fucking fair and Harvey knows it. He knows Mike can’t refuse when he uses that tone. He slides his hands down the door and grips at the door handle, pulling it open and lowering his gaze as he gestures into the apartment. Harvey walks in, mutters “good boy” at him as he passes and Mike shudders. 

“That’s not fair Harvey,” Mike says and steals a look at him, he catches the smile on Harvey’s face, its tinged with hesitation but forced smugness. But as Mike looks down again he catches the beginnings of a frown. 

“You know you are in a whole lot of trouble for walking out,” Harvey says and Mike nods, still not looking at him. 

“Yeah I know...I just...” 

“Look at me,” Harvey interrupts suddenly, quietly, his voice leaving no room for argument and he takes a step towards Mike. Mike clutches at the door and closes his eyes. 

“Harvey I…” he starts and Harvey reaches forward, hooks a finger under his chin, forcing his head up. Mike twists out of his grasp. 

“Look at me, goddamit,” Harvey slams his hand against the door and Mike jumps slightly, but finally looks at him. “You’re high,” Harvey states, his voice flat and emotionless and Mike squirms under the heavy gaze. 

“I can explain…” he starts, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“No,” Harvey interrupts, his shoulders slumping as he makes for the door. There’s so much disappointment in his face right now that Mike can’t take it, wants to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness and he reaches out, his fingers connecting with his expensive suit jacket. 

“Harvey…”

“I said no,” Harvey snaps, shaking Mike’s hand off and Mike is high enough that he can’t hold on and his fingers slide off easily, over the skin on the back of Harvey’s hand. “I can’t look at you right now,” and there’s the truth, finally, the honest truth that Mike said he wanted. He may have thought he fucked up by telling Harvey he loved him, its nothing compared to how much he _knows_ he’s fucked up now. “And I don’t want to see you tomorrow either,” he says and he steps into the hallway. 

“You firing me?” Mike asks in disbelief. Although he really shouldn’t be surprised, not only has he broken Harvey’s trust by getting high, but he did it during work hours after storming out of the office like a tantrum throwing three year old. All because Harvey doesn’t love him back. 

Mike’s suddenly very sober. 

“Call it enforced vacation,” Harvey snaps and goes to walk away. Mike snakes his hand out and wraps his fingers around Harvey’s wrist. 

“Harvey…please,” he says, using the bedroom tone, like Harvey had done with him, the tone Harvey couldn’t resist when Mike was naked and begging and needing. Harvey shuts his eyes and pulls his hand out of Mike’s grasp again, stepping backwards until his back hits the opposite wall. There’s hurt in his eyes and shit Mike did that, Mike hurt Harvey. 

“You don’t get to use that tone with me, not now Mike,” Harvey laughs bitterly and runs a hand over his hair, “I guess it was my time for a lesson,” he says. 

“What lesson?” Mike asks, his whole body humming with the need to reach out and touch Harvey, because he knows that if he gets his hands on him, Harvey will relent, if he runs his fingers over Harvey’s neck, twirls his fingers into the short hair as the base of Harvey’s skull, Harvey will forgive him, he’ll melt into Mike like he always does, kiss him with that groan that sounds like he’s giving in and push Mike back into the apartment and fuck him all night to remind him who he belongs to. 

Harvey laughs again, “don’t fall for associates, they’ll only disappoint you,” he says and spins on his heel

“Harvey…” Mike calls after him but Harvey ignores it, the only sign he heard is the way his step falters for a second. Mike would go after him if he thought his legs would work right now, but he feels numb, his hand shaking as it grips at the door frame, “Harvey…” Harvey rounds the corner and is gone, leaving Mike with a headache building behind his eyes, an apartment that smells of weed and the knowledge that he’s probably broken this for good now, “fuck.”


	5. Chapter 5

Mike doesn’t sleep that night, he paces his apartment until he comes down, the weed hangover kicking in around three in the morning with a dull ache behind his eyes that could also be tiredness, could also be Harvey, but more than likely its the drugs. The TV throws a flickering light across the living room as Mike flops down on the couch and watches crappy infomercials till he falls asleep somewhere around five in the morning, to some guy claiming that his product is the best. 

He wakes a few hours later, the ache behind his eyes is now a fully fledged headache that throbs whenever he moves and he reaches for the remote to shut off the rerun of _Friends_ that’s currently being played. He knows its torture but he checks his phone anyway and is greeted by a taunting nothingness on the screen, just the blinking time of 07.02. If Harvey hadn’t told him not to come into work today, he would be cursing and jumping into the shower but he throws his phone back onto the coffee table and tries to ignore the stinging in his eyes. 

His apartment smells of stale smoke, the lingering aromatic smell of weed still hangs in the drapes and Mike groans as he gets up, flings the windows open and pulls in a deep breath of morning air. He wants to call Harvey, wants to apologise for breaking his trust and getting high, demand an apology from Harvey for behaving like a dick yesterday thus making Mike go get high, apologies all round. But in the back of his mind he knows its not entirely Harvey’s fault. He’s not that kid anymore, he can’t blame his fuck ups on other people, he can’t even blame Trevor, because Trevor is god knows where doing god knows what with god knows who and Mike kind of wishes he was here actually. He would tell Mike to grow up, fix him coffee and tell him he was being a girl. 

Coffee. 

He shuffles into the kitchen and puts the kettle on, rests his hips against the counter as he waits for it to boil and dumps the grounds into the pot. He jumps when his phone beeps, nearly pours boiling water over his hand and is halfway across the living room in a split second, grabbing at his phone. 

_Harvey says your grandmother’s ill and you wont be in till Monday…everything alright?_

It’s Rachel. And Mike can’t even spare a smile at her concern. He wants it to be Harvey, he wants to hear Harvey’s voice, for Harvey to call him, even to shout at him down the phone and tell him he needs him in work, or call him an idiot for getting high and to actually fire him, anything as long as its Harvey’s voice on the line not Rachel’s text. This whole limbo thing is driving Mike crazy and its only been an hour since he woke up, a freaking hour and Mike already feels like his skin is too small and the world is pitching under his feet. He scrubs a hand over his face and types a reply, his hands shaking slightly. 

_Yeah fine, see you Monday_

Monday. At least that gives him a time limit. He’s pretty sure he can cope with today and the weekend. Pretty sure. Only time will tell though and come Monday he might be sitting, rocking in the corner like a gibbering wreck and muttering nonsensical words under his breath. 

His phone beeps again as he shoves it into his pocket and he swallows down the jolt of hope that it might be Harvey this time. (God he’s pathetic sometimes.) 

_oh he’s also telling everyone you saved the day yesterday, good work, Your Highness :)_

Mike smiles at that. A little sadly, but it’s a smile nevertheless, because Harvey is talking about him and Harvey is telling people he did a good job, even though inside he knows Harvey is probably seething right now and wants nothing more than to strangle him with his bare hands. 

Its probably a testament to how high he got last night and how little sleep he achieved that his next thought is one of anger, he’s flicking through emotions like a kid in a candy store ( _I want that one, no that one, no wait that one_ ). Yes ok Mike got high, but only because Harvey was being dick. If he didn’t want Mike anymore all he had to do was say so, not force Mike to tap out. Harvey was the one that started this in the first place, bought out a side of Mike he never knew existed and he’s pretty sure he can’t ever go back to a normal relationship ever again, the memory of how Harvey’s words, commands if you will, affect him are still too fresh right now and just thinking about them sends a frisson of lust up his spine. He throws his phone across the room in a fit a pique. A childish temper tantrum because God he wants Harvey back but he wants Harvey to work for it (even though he’s pretty sure if Harvey called right now he would be out of the door and in Harvey’s office, on his knees at Harvey’s feet within half an hour). 

He needs to get out, pacing his apartment is killing him, his phone is taunting him with its silence and he needs air. He grabs his wallet and phone and slams the door behind him.

.....

“Hey grammy,” Mike smiles as he slips into her room. She shifts in her bed, pushing herself up and Mike is struck by how frail she looks all of a sudden. All his life she has been there, with a kind smile, stern word, sharp slap to the back of his head, or soothing kisses and now Mike is hit with an almost crippling fear that she wont be there forever. He found himself at the front of the home after walking around for hours, his head whirring, anger at Harvey’s lack of response to “I love you” boiling under his skin. 

“Michael…you look tired…and sad, what’s happened?” She smiles and holds out a hand to him. He sits next to her on her bed and hooks a knee under him and takes her hand in his own, her skin is smooth and papery under his fingers. 

“Nothing…I’m…fine,” she raises an eyebrow at him and Mike squirms slightly. 

“You know you can’t lie to me,” she says and Mike lets out a small laugh. God he wants to be a kid again right now, to curl up next to her and have her run her fingers through his hair and tell him everything was going to be ok. He swallows the lump in his throat. 

“…it’s Harvey,” he says and she clenches her fingers around his. Mike has always been honest with her, to the point that Trevor though it was weird, most people did. But she’s easy and nonjudgmental and always ready to listen with a cup of tea and gentle words. He told her about Harvey not long after Harvey had kissed him that first time and left the ground under Mike’s feet unsteady. She had nodded, asked him why it had taken him so long to figure out he had a crush on his boss and told him to be a man about it. 

“Is he being a, what did you call him the other day? A toppy bastard?” Mike can’t help but laugh at that. He had been pissed at Harvey that day, strung out from too much work and not enough sleep and Harvey had gone out to schmooze with clients, leaving Mike pacing the apartment by himself. He thinks it might have been punishment for working on Louis’s brief before Harveys but he learnt his lesson that night after he got home to find a furious Harvey glaring at him across the living room (Harvey had placed bruises on his hip bones that night, exactly where his trousers lay, on purpose). Mike shakes his head, “no grammy, he’s not, and that’s kind of the problem,” he admits. 

“What did you do?” she asks and Mike rolls his eyes, wondering what it says about him that everyone asks him that. Is he really that much of a fuck up? 

“I told him I loved him,” he says finally after the raised eyebrow glare from grammy gets too much to ignore. She doesn’t even flinch. 

“Do you?” she asks, because she always needs to know all the facts before she makes an opinion. Mike sighs, runs a hand through his hair and massages the back of his neck. He drops his hand as she raises her eyebrows at the mark on his neck. She asked about them the other day and Mike had squirmed, and she had put two and two together and made four. She wasn’t stupid, but she loved him and expressed worry. Mike had been honest when he told her it was fine, he liked it. Yes, that had been a very embarrassing conversation and one he’d really not like to have ever again. 

“Yeah, I do,” he replies and she nods once, “I really do.” 

“And what did he say?” 

“Nothing, then I shouted at him and stormed out of work and…got high,” he answers, wringing his hands in front of him. Grammy sighs and rubs at her temple. 

“Oh dear...” she shifts in her bed slightly, pushing herself back up and mike leans forward to plump her pillow, “but he’ll forgive you, he always does, doesn’t he?” He wants to smile at her, wants to trust her opinion of the man she’s never met but who makes her grandson infuriated but happy. But he shrugs. 

“Not so sure this time, and anyway, he started this, he messed it up to begin with, why should he forgive me? Shouldn’t it be me forgiving him?” he sulks, crossing his arms. He would slouch if he wasn’t sitting on her bed next to her. 

“Listen to yourself, you sound like a spoilt brat,” she snaps, snaking a surprisingly fast hand out and clipping him round the ear, “its not you messed up, or he messed up. You both did. So figure it out because I have never seen you so happy as when you’re with Harvey, you hear me?” 

“I hear you…” 

“If he can’t see through your screw ups then he’s just an idiot who spends far too much money on suits,” she finishes with a nod, her tone suggesting she wont hear any more. She’s done with the advice for one night. Mike smiles at her as she cups his face in her papery hands. 

“He’d like you,” he says, his voice muffled slightly by the way she’s squeezing his face. 

“Who doesn’t?” she replies with her wicked smile and her eyes twinkle. 

“Good point.”

.....

Mike feels lighter as he walks back to his apartment. His talks with grammy always make him smile, no matter what she says, even when she’s calling him a screw up and slapping him round the back of the head, its because she loves him unconditionally and he knows that. 

It’s why he usually takes her advice, because she knows him better than anyone, despite his fuck ups, and she wants what’s best for him. It’s why he usually finds himself at her home the minute things go wrong, walking to clear his head and finding himself sitting beside her pouring his pathetic, childish (goddamn bruised) heart out. 

There’s a part of him that wants to call Jenny too, talk it out with her, because even though they’ve pretty much gone their separate ways, they could always talk to each other about anything. And honestly, he misses her, the way she would laugh at him, and call him an idiot whenever he got something “relationshipy” completely and hopelessly wrong. Which was pretty much whenever he ventured in the relationship land. 

What it all boils down to though is that he wants Harvey. God, everything about him. The arrogance, the smirk, the dark words whispered in his ear, the soft touches on the back of his neck when Harvey thinks no one else is looking. He wants everything, he wants to give himself over to Harvey and have Harvey take care of him (he really doesn’t know where that thought comes from, Mike’s always wanted to take acre of himself, not have someone else do it, but its Harvey and Harvey messes Mike’s mind up evidently). But he’s pissed too. He knows he fucked up by getting high, but equally Harvey fucked up by not explaining things to him, but not talking to him. Leaving him worried and confused about bringing up safe words when he’d meant it as a joke, a throw away comment designed to get Harvey to smile at him, leaving him cold and aching for his touch when he ignored that blurted declaration of love. 

And Jesus Mike sounds like a girl right now. 

He’s got his phone in his hand by the time he puts the key in the door of his apartment. 

“Is he there?” he asks as Donna picks up the phone. He called Harvey’s direct line but he obviously had his calls put through to her. She answers in her typical professional manner and it makes Mike want to be standing in front of her desk making faces at her to get her to crack, like he does when they’ve had a particularly good day and Harvey is smiling at him. 

“What did you do?” she asks because she knows his voice and because he’s one of the few people who have his direct line. Jessica and Donna are the only other two, that he knows of and it had made him swell with pride when Donna had let that slip. 

“How do you know it wasn’t him that fucked up?” he says and he can practically see the raised eyebrow over the phone. He sighs. 

“Kid, I haven’t seen him this…pissed in a long time, and since he’s pissed, and you’re not here I’m getting the feeling it has to do with you. But if that upsets you, I’ll rephrase...what the hell happened?” she asks and Mike is kind of glad that Harvey’s pissed, in the way that you hope an ex is miserable, because at least that shows they care right? Its childish and Mike wants to slap himself for it, but really when you think about it, its human nature. 

“Does it matter Donna? Is he there?” he knows he is there, he can hear it in Donna’s voice, the way she lowers her tone, and she’s probably turned away from Harvey’s office. 

“He told me not to put calls through, well he told me not to put _your_ calls through. So either you two love birds have had a spat or…no that’s all I came up with. Sorry Kid, he pays the bills,” she says and there’s a hint of an apology in her voice, like she wants nothing more than to put his call through and listen over the intercom at the, probably, heated conversation. Mike still has no idea what’s he’s going to say once he’s persuaded Donna to put him through. She will put him through, Donna loves him, Mike knows that, even hard Donna can’t resist his smile. Also, Harvey may pay the bills but its not like Donna has ever toed the line when it came to conventional rules. 

“Donna, please?” he says and he hears Donna sigh, then there’s muffled noises, the sound of a hand being placed over the receiver and voices in the background and then Donna comes back on the line. 

“Harvey wants you in work on Monday,” Donna says and Mike seethes. The arrogant bastard wont even tell him himself. The fucking asshole doesn’t have the courage to pick up the phone and tell Mike to get his ass back into the office. Well, screw him, screw Harvey Specter and all he holds dear. 

“Harvey wants me back in work but wont take my call? Harvey can go fuck himself,” Mike snaps as he slams the phone down and flinches slightly. Not only is Harvey going to be pissed at him, now Donna is too, and truth be told he’s a little more scared of Donna than he is of Harvey, right now.

.....

“Donna’s pissed at you,” Mike jumps slightly, his hand hitting the edge of his post box as Harvey steps out of the shadows of the entrance hall to Mike’s apartment. Mike has been out, walking again, but also stocking up on alcohol because he’s pretty sure he’s going to get wasted again tonight and drown his sorrows with Jack, Jim and Jose. He doesn’t know how long Harvey’s been waiting there and he stamps down the guilt that he’s made Harvey wait. Mike curses and slams the box shut, “I had to restrain her from marching over here herself,” Harvey continues, a hint of a smile in his voice. He’s got his hands shoved in his pockets and there are dark circles under his eyes again. His hair isn’t as perfect as it usually is, a few strands hanging lose over his forehead and Mike feels another stab of guilt at that. There’s a lingering smile at the corner of Harvey’s lips though and it sooths the stab and turns it into anger. He narrows his eyes and punches the elevator call button. 

“Go away Harvey,” he says and Harvey sighs, places his hand over Mike’s on the call button and just looks at him. Mike closes his eyes and pulls his hand out, his skin warm where Harvey touched him. He glares though, glares at him and turns away, going to take the stairs. 

“Mike...” Harvey calls after him and Mike bounds up the first flight of stairs. “Michael...I know you want to turn around,” Harvey says, amused, and ok now Mike’s really pissed. He takes the stairs two at a time. “Mike....stop,” there’s that tone, the one that leaves no room for argument, the one that Mike’s been dreaming of for the past two days (God has it really only been two days since Harvey’s touched him?). Mike stops, dead in his tracks, his fingers gripping at the stair rail. 

“Just...stop it, ok?” he says, almost pleading, and turns to find Harvey right behind him, he’s on the step below and he’s shorter than Mike now but even so Mike gets the feeling he’s looking up at him. Harvey reaches out and tugs gently on Mike’s belt. 

“Puppy,” he mutters because he’s a bastard and he knows what that name does to Mike and Mike swallows against the need (yes its a need thank you) to slip to his knees right now. 

“Stop it,” he pushes gently at Harvey’s chest, gives himself the space he needs to turn and walk away. He makes it to his door without his knees giving out and he’s kind of pleased until Harvey plasters himself to Mike’s back and pins him against the door. 

“Rookie...” he whispers into Mike’s ear and _fuck_ that’s not fair. Harvey pulls away slightly and Mike manages to get the key into the lock and turn it. 

“I thought,” Mike snaps, pushing his door open but whirling around to glare at Harvey, “I told Donna to tell you to go fuck yourself?” Harvey actually laughs, pushes his way into Mike’s apartment and frowns slightly like he always does whenever he’s there. 

“Although I’m not adverse to a little ‘me time’,” Harvey says, slipping his jacket off his arms and honestly, how in the hell is Mike meant to think when Harvey’s stripping in his living room? “I think actually fucking myself might be a physical impossibility, even for someone of my calibre,” he smirks and holds his jacket out to Mike. Mike crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What do you want, Harvey?” he sighs and Harvey nods, folds his jacket and lays it gently, likes its a child (it probably cost more than the average cost of bringing up a child anyway) across the arm of Mike’s couch, “come to fire me in person?” Harvey looks up at that, sharply his features carefully schooled, then he scoffs. 

“No, Donna would kill me if I fired you, even though she wants to kill you right now,” he says taking a step towards Mike. Mike steps back because he doesn’t really trust himself around Harvey, doesn’t trust himself not to just give up and hand over everything to Harvey, and Harvey is probably very aware of that, “came to give you your job back, you _will_ be back in work on Monday.”

“What makes you think I want it back after the dickish way you behaved?” he says, his back is against the door now and Harvey smirks, wolfish smile curling his lips as he advances on him. 

“I was a dick?” Harvey asks, places his hands either side of Mike’s head. Mike looks up at him and doesn’t really understand how Harvey can make himself look so tall when actually he’s probably only half an inch taller than Mike. Mike’s probably slouching, that must be it. “ _You_ got high,” Harvey says, leaning in and his eyes go dark as they rake over his neck. Mike swallows. 

“Cos I was pissed at you,” he replies and Harvey pulls back enough to look at him in the eyes. 

“You tapped out,” he says and there’s emotion there, something swimming under the possessive glint in Harvey’s eyes, something Mike had never been able to figure out and now, with Harvey standing so close and anger and lust running through his veins its especially hard. 

“You basically forced me too,” he says giving a quick shove to Harvey’s chest. Harvey just holds fast, leans in a little closer and watches as Mike curls his fingers into his shirt. 

“You said you love me,” he says, his voice low and Mike drops his hand from the soft shirt like it’s burnt him, looks at Harvey. His face is so close and he licks at his lips once. Mike swallows, _stay pissed Mike, stay pissed, no matter how pleased you are to see him here, **stay pissed.**_

“Yeah...well...” he starts and Harvey leans in even closer, runs his thumb down the side of Mike’s neck and he loses all train of thought, “I have no comeback to that cos it’s true so...” he shrugs and a slow smile spreads over Harvey’s face.

“I was being a dick huh?” Harvey asks again, stepping away and crossing his arms. Mike feels the heat leave his body and his crosses his own arms, tries his best to look dignified with a half hard dick tenting the front of his jeans. 

“Yes,” Mike sulks and Harvey takes a quick step towards him, places his hands on either side of his face and kisses him. _God_ , Harvey’s kissing him, and Mike may or may not let out possibly the most embarrassing noise known to man and he wraps his fingers around Harvey’s wrists. 

“Sorry,” Harvey mutters against Mike’s mouth and Mike doesn’t care, Harvey just needs to stop talking and keep on kissing him. 

“For what?” he asks because Harvey’s finally got his hands on him, cupping Mike’s face and running his thumbs across Mike’s cheeks, and Mike can taste of coffee on Harvey’s breath as it ghosts over his lips and he honestly can’t remember why he’s meant to be pissed at him right now, “wait...” he pulls away a little and a frown flits over Harvey’s face, “did you just apologise?” 

“Don’t get used to it,” Harvey replies, kissing him hard and deep again before pulling away completely and stepping back, giving Mike enough room to think, to breathe. He starts rolling up his sleeves, neatly folding them up until his forearms are exposed. “Ok three things...” he says, frowning as he looks around the apartment, presumably looking for a clean surface to sit on, “one, you’re a self destructive little shit and if you _ever_ get high again, my God, will there be consequences, and not the good ones,” a shiver runs up Mike’s spine at that.

“Like what?” he can’t help but ask and Harvey holds up a hand, removing an empty Chinese take out container off the couch and sitting down.

“Still talking,” he says in that infuriating voice that makes Mike want to punch him, or sink to his knees and swallow him whole, “Two, you want a safe word you pick a safe word. I want you happy and comfortable when we go into this properly,” he hooks at finger at Mike who raises an eyebrow but obediently goes to him. Mike wants to slap himself round the back of the head for that because honestly? When did he become Harvey’s bitch? Oh yeah, when Harvey decided to make him his bitch. Months ago. 

“What exactly is _this_?” he asks as Harvey wraps his fingers around Mike’s belt again, and tugs hard. Mike falls, and its only his cat like reflexes that stop him falling straight onto Harvey. He presses his hands to the top of the couch and hovers over Harvey. Harvey stares up at him with an amused expression. “And hang on what makes you think I’m taking you back?” 

“Oh, no, no no, _I’m_ taking _you_ back because of three,” Harvey explains, like he’s talking to a child, and he winds his hands between Mike’s legs, hauls him off his feet and into his lap. Harvey looks impossibly pleased with himself when Mike finally registers what happened and blinks down at him. 

“What’s three?” Mike asks, Harveys hands splayed across his hips. His fingers tighten and he looks up at Mike, his expression flipping from amused to serious in an instant. 

“I love you,” Mike can feel the slow smile spread across his face and Harvey’s answering one, tinged with hesitation is probably one of the best things he has ever seen. 

“I _suppose_ that’s a good enough reason for me to take you back,” Mike says and Harvey laughs, lifts him and Mike finds himself flat on his back, the TV remote digging into his spine and Harvey staring down at him with an expression that can only be described as predatory. 

God it feels good to have Harvey’s comforting weight pressing him down again, his thigh between his own, knee pressed up against his crotch. Mike’s well aware of how pathetic he’s been the last two days when he couldn’t have this. They’ve had times before when they didn’t touch for days, but that wasn’t forced distance, it wasn’t because Harvey was pissed and Mike was hurting. It was work, or Louis (that mother fucker had kept Mike practically chained to his desk for three days once), or some other function that Harvey couldn’t wriggle out of no matter how much he smiled at Jessica. But this time had been worse, because Mike wasn’t sure he’d ever get this back, ever get Harvey looking down at him like Mike’s an offering, or Harvey’s hand curled around the back of his neck with his thumb running up the side, over his pulse. Mike lets out a strangled whine as Harvey presses his thumb into a bruise and Harvey’s eyes darken. Mike wants to say it again, wants to kiss Harvey till their both panting, whispering “I love you” into his mouth like its a secret for only the two of them. Which is how Harvey feels, Mike’s willing to bet, he’ll probably deny he ever said it to Mike if Mike ever tells anyone. Except Donna. Donna would believe him and Donna probably knows already. 

“You’re thinking,” Harvey says, pressing his thumb under Mike’s chin, “Remember what we said about you thinking?” Mike swallows against the slight pressure on his Adam’s apple. 

“Never in the bedroom,” Mike recites automatically and Harvey smiles, a slow smile and leans forward, kisses Mike to within an inch of his life, “but we’re not in the bedroom,” Mike says once Harvey pulls away and Harvey raises an eyebrow, pushes himself off Mike and holds his hand out to him, hauls him to his feet. 

“Not yet,” Harvey responds, grabbing his jacket off the arm of the couch.

.....

They catch a cab to Harvey’s apartment (“seriously Mike, not staying here...ever”). And the journey is probably the most embarrassing cab journey in the history of cab journeys, with Harvey’s hand down Mike’s pants and Mike making the most pathetic noises know to man, and the driver smirking at them and muttering a knowing “have a good night gentlemen”, as they slip out of the cab and Harvey presses his hand to the small of Mike’s back. 

“I hate you,” Mike mutters darkly as Harvey laughs, nods at the concierge and makes his way to the outrageous private glass elevator. 

“No you don’t,” Harvey replies, stabbing at the P for penthouse and pushing Mike up against the glass wall. 

Before Harvey, or BH as Mike likes to think of it in his head, Mike would have at least waited until they were in the relative privacy of the, you know, glass walled apartment (apart from the one time after the aforementioned three days chained to his own desk when Mike had gone down on Harvey the second the doors had closed), but now, when Harvey shoves him up against the wall and drags his hands up Mike’s ribs, fingers playing over the bumps under his skin, Mike doesn’t care about privacy one little bit, as long as Harvey keeps sucking on that bruise and his fingers keep twisting his nipple. 

“Oh _God_ ,” he drags out and Harvey huffs a laugh against his neck, tongue flicking out to lick at his skin as he pulls Mike’s shirt completely out of his jeans and sinks to his knees to nip at Mike’s hips. 

And _Jesus_ its so unfair that Harvey can make Mike this close to orgasm without even touching his dick. And he’s pretty sure he says that out loud because Harvey laughs, licks at Mike’s hip and stands again, straightens his jacket as the glass door slide open to Harvey’s apartment and Harvey suddenly sobers, pushing Mike out gently. 

“Sit,” he points at the couch and Mike frowns at his back as he turns to the fridge to grab two bottles of water. 

“What about...”

“Sit,” Harvey says again and Mike does, his knees practically giving out at the tone in Harvey’s voice. A bottle of water comes sailing through the air and Mike catches it one handed, as Harvey sits down on the table in front of Mike. Mike doesn’t quite know what the hell is going on right now, first Harvey says he loves him, plasters him against the elevator wall and then everything stops, and now he’s sitting on furniture, which is highly unusual as the last time Mike sat on the coffee table, Harvey had stripped him naked and made him beg for half an hour before he let him come. 

“What’s this about?” he asks, his leg bouncing nervously, and he gets the feeling he’s about to be hurt again. Harvey lays a hand on his knee and Mike stills. He doesn’t miss the way Harvey’s jaw twitches. 

“You picked a safe word?” Harvey asks and Mike cocks his head to the side. Harvey looks down at his water, twists the cap off and takes a pull. Mike watches the way his throat bobs and swallows himself. 

“I wasn’t aware there was a time limit on it,” he says and Harvey wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. There’s a drop of water clinging to the corner of Harvey’s lips and Mike can’t stop himself from leaning forward and swiping it off with the pad of his thumb. Harvey catches his hand and pulls it between them. 

“Listen, Mike...” 

“I don’t like that tone...” Mike interrupts, because he doesn’t. It’s serious and Harvey’s face has done that annoying impassive thing it does when he doesn’t want to show emotions (which let’s face it, is pretty much all the time). 

“I want to explain something,” Harvey says simply, his fingers playing over the back of Mike’s hand. 

“Ok.”

“What do you want out of this?” Harvey asks, looking at him, searching Mike’s face and Mike frowns slightly, tugging experimentally at his hand. Harvey’s grip tightens and Mike stills again. 

“I thought you were explaining?”

“In order for me to explain I need to know what you want,” Harvey says, reaching forward and curling his hand around the back of Mike’s neck. In their current position, Harvey is taller, sitting on the edge of the coffee table with Mike sitting on the low couch in front of him and Harvey spreads his legs, pulling Mike forward and dragging his fingers across Mike’s skin. 

“I want...” Mike starts and realises he has no idea how to vocalise what he wants. He’s also never been big with the whole talking during sex thing, verbalising his thoughts and feelings during sex (the question “tell me what you’re thinking” makes him want to punch the question asker in the face, because honestly, not thinking about much right now). He feels his face flush slightly and Harvey pulls him an inch closer, bringing his hand round till he can get a thumb under Mike’s chin again. 

“Do I need to _make_ you tell me?” he asks and Mike shivers (a full body shiver like someone’s doing the Hokey Pokey on your grave or something like). Harvey’s fingers twitch against his neck and his eyes flicker dark. 

“I want that,” Mike says, and once he starts, he can’t stop, “I want you telling me to do things, I want your hands around my wrists and your dick inside and your bruises on my neck, I want you to say ‘good boy’ to me and I never want you to bet me to Louis again, I want...” Mike trails off as Harvey lets out a groan and pulls him close, covers his mouth with his own and licks his way inside. He’s said it before, he’ll say it again, Harvey is probably the best kisser in the world, bar none. He pulls back all too soon but keeps his hands around Mike’s neck. 

“A few things,” he says, pressing a kiss to Mike’s forehead as he lets him go and sits back. Mike takes a shaky breath in and opens his water. “ _This_ doesn’t leave the bedroom, well this apartment really. I’m not adverse to a quick handjob at work, but in the office I want you fighting with me, I want the Mike I hired, got it?” Mike nods, “you safe word, I stop immediately and we talk it out. Same goes for if I safe word,” he finishes and Mike nearly chokes on his water. Harvey raises an amused eyebrow as Mike swallows. 

“Wait, you...” 

“Safe words work both ways Mike, if I feel things are out of hand I will stop it,” he says and frowns again. To be honest he’d never really thought about it, never thought of the logistics and the politics involved in this kind of relationship, because he never really dared to hope that he was actually _in_ a relationship with Harvey. But Harvey’s sitting in front of him now, his face open and honest for one of the first times Mike has ever noticed and Mike can’t help himself from moving forward and crawling onto Harvey’s lap. Harvey smiles almost indulgently as he wraps his arms around Mike’s waist and lets Mike kiss him. 

“I’m pretty sure this table wasn’t designed to be sat on by two people so...as much as I am enjoying this...up,” Mike scrambles off Harvey’s lap and stands, putting a little distance between them as his mind whirs, ever bloody thinking. God sometimes he wishes he could just switch it off. “Thinking again Rookie?”

“Just...” 

“What?” Harvey makes an abortive move towards him, his hand lifting like he wants to tug Mike closer but he stops himself, almost as if he wants to give Mike space to think and that just makes Mike love him even more. Mike reaches forward and scrunches the material of Harvey’s shirt between his fingers. 

“Can we get to the sex now please?” Mike asks and Harvey laughs, his body vibrating as he kisses Mike and laughs into his mouth. 

“Few more things first, kid,” he says letting Mike go again and Mike really doesn’t care right now, all he wants is Harvey to strip him naked and make him come. “I wont hurt you,” Harvey starts and stop at Mike’s raises eyebrow. 

“Um...” Mike waves a hand in the direct of the bruises on his neck and the angry bite mark lurking under his collar. Harvey’s hands twitch by his sides. 

“You know what I mean,” he says seriously and Mike nods, “I wont hurt you badly, I don’t like doing it,” he says and something crosses his face that makes Mike wonder about Harvey’s past, a slight shadow of past regrets. Mike steps forward and places his hand on Harvey’s chest, stroking his fingers against the expensive material of Harvey’s shirt. 

“I get it,” he says and Harvey raises an eyebrow. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes, safe words are important, this doesn’t leave the apartment, you wont hurt me blah blah can we please have sex now?” 

“This is important Mike,” Harvey says going to step away and Mike clutches at his shirt, wrinkling the material in his fists again and Harvey stops, covers Mike’s hands with his own.

“I know. But I trust you and I just…just really need to you fuck me right now so can you…” Harvey silences him with his mouth, groaning into the kiss like he’s dying and Mike answers it with a groan of his own, surging forward and pressing himself as close to Harvey as he can get. Harvey’s hands slide up his back, firm against his shoulder blades as he pulls him closer and walks them backwards towards his bedroom. Mike’s stomach flips as Harvey slides his mouth across his jaw, nipping gently at the skin. He gets his hands under Mike’s t-shirt, palms almost hot, and tugs, pulling it over Mike’s head and there’s that awful moment when Harvey has to take his mouth from Mike’s skin for Mike to extract himself from the shirt. But then Harvey’s back, muttering “God Mike I…” against his mouth and Mike briefly wonders why Harvey never finishes his sentences when they’re like this. But then Harvey pushes his hands into the back of his jeans, finger sliding down his ass between his cheeks and pretty much every coherent thought goes out of his head. 

But it’s always that way with Harvey, he makes Mike’s brain quiet and Mike loves him for it. Well he loves him for giving him a chance, for the way he can drag four orgasms out of him in one night and the way his kisses feel like Harvey is putting all of his focus into them too, not just that he makes his brain go quiet the second he puts his hands on Mike. 

“Knees,” Harvey drags out, giving Mike’s ass a quick squeeze and extracting his hands and Mike drops to his knees, hands shaking slightly as he lifts them to Harvey’s pants and fumbles with the belt. He slides the belt free from the loops one by one, looking up at Harvey as he does and Harvey’s eyes go dark as he cups Mike’s face and pushes his thumb into his mouth. Harvey makes that choked off noise in the back of his throat as Mike sucks on his thumb, tongue dragging over the pad of the finger. He drops the belt on the floor and slides the zipper down slowly and Harvey groans, pulls his thumb out and presses it under Mike’s chin, runs it down his throat. He manages to undo Harvey’s pants without looking and push them down his thighs. Harvey’s skin is smooth, dusted with almost fine hairs and Mike leans forward, mouths at the already noticeable bulge on Harvey’s boxers (silk, no surprise there). Harvey slides his hand into Mike’s hair, grips at the back of his head and his hips stutter forwards as Mike continues to mouth at his dick through the silk, and Harvey grinds out a dark “Mike,” as his hand tightens in his hair. 

Mike hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down, licking at his lips as Harvey’s dick springs up, dark and hard, against Harvey’s stomach. Mike leans forward and licks up the vein on the underside, swirls his tongue over the slit and tastes pre come as he wraps his lips around the head and sucks. Harvey grunts, pushes his hips forward, his other hand falling to Mike’s hair. Mike opens his throat, swallows Harvey down and hums around him and he feels the muscles in Harvey’s thighs twitch with the effort not to drive hard into the back of his throat. He hums again, encouragingly and Harvey gives up the fight, pulses his hips forward and Mike just takes it, swallows around him and lets Harvey fuck his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Harvey mutters, unwinds his fingers from Mike’s hair and runs a thumb over his cheekbone, smoothing a tear into Mike’s skin. But then Harvey’s pulling out and Mike lets him go with a pop as Harvey hauls him to his feet and licks the taste of himself from Mike’s mouth, “undress, get on the bed.” 

Mike’s hands move before his brain has even registered the command, fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans. Harvey growls, pushes him flat on the bed and rips the jeans and boxers off Mike in one go, throwing them over his shoulder and he crawls up Mike in a way that makes Mike shudder in anticipation.

“Did you pick a word yet?” Harvey asks, his breath hot against Mike’s lips and Mike wonders how the hell is meant to speak right now as Harvey wraps his hand around Mike’s dick and twists sharply. 

“ _Enterprise_ ,” Mike replies almost instantly and Harvey pulls away and looks down at him, raises an eyebrow. 

“Seriously?” 

“Well its not like I am ever going to say it by accident and I thought _Kobayashi Maru_ was too long and might be kinda difficult to say in the heat of the moment,” Mike replies, shifting his hips to get Harvey to move his hand again. Harvey tightens his grip and his expression goes from amused and pleased to dark. 

“Stay still,” he says and Mike immediately stills, “good boy.” He moves his hand again, twisting it slowly and Mike bites his lip to stay still, to keep his hips from chasing his hand as he drags it up Mike’s dick. 

Harvey brings Mike to the edge of orgasm, holds him there with stern words and a tight grip at the base of his dick as he reaches over him to grab a bottle of lube and a condom from the bedside table. Mike fists his hands into the sheets as Harvey pours lube onto his fingers and pushes one inside him. He wants to push back against Harvey’s hand but he told him to stay still so Mike bites on his lip again as Harvey add another finger and hooks them around inside. “You have no idea what you look like,” Harvey says, his voice wrecked, “so fucking beautiful,” he says, pressing a third finger in on ‘beautiful’ and Mike wants to blush, wants to tell Harvey he’s not a freaking girl, he may have soft features and a lithe physique, but he’s no girl. But Harvey’s words are dark and his hand is hard around his dick, his fingers curling inside of him and he leans forward and kisses Mike hard and Mike forgets what he was going to say. 

“I’m going to fuck you now and you aren’t going to come until I say so, got that Rookie?” Harvey says and Mike can only nod as he pulls his fingers out and Mike feels suddenly empty. He whines and Harvey smiles down at him, runs a hand down his chest and rips the condom packet open with his teeth. The sight of Harvey rolling it down over his dick is something Mike will probably never get used to. Harvey really is magnificent, every single inch, and he’s still got his shirt on, rolled up to the elbows, but his thighs are twitching and he arches his hips into his hand as he strokes himself once before lifting Mike’s hips and pushing in, in one agonisingly slow thrust. 

Harvey closes his eyes and throws back his head as he pulls completely out and pushes back in again, groaning loudly and Mike keeps his open, watches the way Harvey swallows and licks at his lips. And its almost like Harvey feels Mike’s eyes on him because he snaps his gaze down, locks it with Mike’s. The rhythm is almost punishing, steady and strong and Mike can feel his orgasm coil in the pit of his stomach as Harvey leans forward and kisses him hard, worries Mike’s bottom lip between his teeth and curls one hand around Mike’s dick. Harvey shifts his hips and Mike sees stars as he hits that spot deep inside him. 

“Harvey…please,” he gasps and Harvey twists his hand at the same time as he drives in and Mike practically bites through his lip, closing his eyes and clutching at Harvey’s shoulders. 

“Ok kid, come now,” Harvey’s voice is dark in his ear and Mike feels his stomach contract, his whole body going taught, Harvey drives in again and runs his thumb over the tip of Mike’s dick and that’s it, Mike is done. He comes hard enough that he’s pretty sure he passes out for a second, his stomach warm and wet as Harvey’s skin slides across it and Harvey’s hips stutter and then he’s coming too, biting down on Mike’s collar bone, his teeth pressing into skin almost hard enough to break it. 

“Fuck,” Mike mutters as Harvey collapses onto him, huffing out hot breath against the crook of Mike’s neck. His fingers play at Mike’s ribs, dancing over skin and Mike shifts, “that tickles,” he says and Harvey lifts his head with an amused, yet calculating smile on his face. 

“You’re ticklish?” he asks and doesn’t give Mike time to answer, licks into his mouth instead and kisses Mike till he can’t breathe properly. “I am so going to use that against you…once I can move again.” 

“You’re evil, you know that?” Mike ask and Harvey laughs, runs a hand through Mike’s hair and smiles at him in the way that makes Mike’s chest warm. God he really is a girl, isn’t he? Harvey’s face goes from relaxed and amused to sober and serious and he shifts against Mike, his dick slips from Mike’s body and Mike winces slightly. 

“Mike…I…” he starts and Mike gets it, he really does, its right there on Harvey’s face, pouring from his eyes and Mike reaches up, massages his fingers at the base of his neck. 

“I get it Harvey,” he says and Harvey narrows his eyes slightly. 

“Do you though?” he asks and Mike smiles at the use of his drunken words. Harvey kisses him again then, gently this time, just a press of lips and rolls them both till Mike’s tucked against Harvey’s chest, his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ear. 

He wakes, probably only a few hours later, and Harvey is naked now, his shirt no doubt neatly folded somewhere in the bedroom. It never really gets dark in Harvey’s apartment, but Mike likes that, he gets to see Harvey sleep mussed and completely relaxed, his face smooshed into a pillow and his hair out of its rock solid coif. He can’t see that now though because he’s tucked into the curve of Harvey’s body, back against Harvey’s chest and Harvey’s possessive arm around his waist holding him close, holding him still. Mike shifts, presses back against him and Harvey mutters something, lips skating across the back of Mike’s neck. 

Mike needs to pee and he’s learnt over the last few months that Harvey’s grip can be vice like even when he’s asleep. He shifts again, trying to extricate himself from the death grip. 

“Uh-uh Rookie, where do you think you’re going?” Harvey’s voice is thick with sleep, his breath hot against Mike’s neck. Mike digs an elbow back into Harvey’s ribs. 

“If you don’t let go I’m going to piss on your $1000 sheets,” Harvey lets go almost immediately and Mike smiles to himself as he crawls out of bed on shaky legs. The lights in the bathroom are almost too bright and Mike squints against the harshness, blinks a couple of times to clear his vision and inspects the new bite on his collar bone. He presses his fingers into it till it hurts and wonders, again, what it says about him that he loves to see his skin marred and marked by Harvey. He shakes his head to clear it, empties his bladder and washes his hands, drinking a mouthful of cold water to soothe his throat that feels like he’s been shouting for hours and switches the light off (he learnt that the hard way “Mike, if you fucking leave the lights on one more time there are going to be _serious_ repercussions.”).

Harvey’s nearly asleep again as he makes it back to bed and Mike lets himself look at him for a few seconds, his face completely relaxed. There a crease on his face from the pillow and Mike wants to lick it, but he settles for crawling back into bed instead. Harvey shifts, turns on his side and Mike plasters himself to his chest, snakes his arms around him and pulls the covers up over them.

“Fucking limpet,” Harvey mutters sleepily, but he winds his arms around Mike anyway, pulls him close. 

“You love me,” Mike replies, pressing into Harvey’s body, “and you can’t deny it, photographic memory, remember?” 

Harvey’s reply is a tightening of his arms and a kiss pressed to Mike’s forehead. 

Mike maybe Harvey’s bitch. But he’s pretty sure Harvey is at least a little bit Mike’s bitch. And he’s also pretty sure that Harvey’s ok with it.


End file.
